


Lust

by torturingtaylor (itzaimster)



Category: Hanson
Genre: M/M, Sexual Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-01-12 10:26:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 160
Words: 206,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1185168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itzaimster/pseuds/torturingtaylor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taylor is betrayed by someone most people trust with their lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A re-write from an old work, picked up from the resurgence of slavery cases such as the Castro house and Sophie Hayes story.

“Hold on just one second, I have to take this.”  
“But Tay-“  
“Hello?”  
Taylor cut the sound from the studio and answered his phone, leaving Zac with a very unimpressed look on his face and undoubtedly muttering something derogatory under his breath.  
“Hey it’s me. Look… I think I’m going to be a bit caught up here this afternoon, but Willa has her immunisation appointment at one…”  
“No problem,” Taylor looked up just in time to see Zac poke his tongue out, “I think we’re just about to break for lunch anyhow. Should I come pick her up?”  
“Yeah that’d help,” Natalie kept the scorn out of her voice.  
“Same doctor?”  
“Doctor Fenton, yeah.”  
“No problem,” he assured, “I’ll be there soon.”  
“Thanks Tay. See you then.”  
“Bye.”  
Taylor hung up and reconnected the studio audio in time to hear Zac singing something about Taylor’s choice of shirt for the day.  
“Zac!” he got his attention, “I have to cut out early. I have to take Willa for an appointment.”  
“Are you kidding me?”  
“Sorry. I’ll come back when we’re done. It shouldn’t take long.”  
“And what if we can’t get this part down?”  
Taylor grit his teeth as he registered the anger building in Zac’s voice.  
“I’ll be gone two hours. Max. And it sounds to me like you need a break anyway. We can pick up right where we left off.”  
Zac grunted as he slipped the headphones off and went to check his phone which had been left on a speaker to his right. Taylor cut the studio audio again before turning to Isaac who’d been sitting quietly in the corner with a notepad.  
“You okay to hold down the fort?” he asked.  
Isaac looked up lazily, obviously not interested in any quarrel his brothers might have had going on.  
“He’ll be fine,” he shook his head, “by the time you get back he’ll be over it.”  
“Yeah right,” Taylor scoffed, “but what about you?”  
“By the time you get back, I’ll probably be over it too.”  
“Over him you mean?”  
“Tomato, tomato,” Isaac waved his hand indifferently, going back to his notes.  
Taylor sighed and stood from the chair, grabbing his jacket and scarf from where they’d been resting over the back.  
“Just don’t kill each other in the meantime,” he insisted, pocketing his phone as he threw them on.  
Isaac grunted in response and Taylor rolled his eyes before heading out. He didn’t bother to say goodbye to Zac as he left the studio and headed downstairs and out to the cars.  
It wasn’t long before he was pulling up in Zac’s driveway, and Natalie was ready at the door with Willa and her bag.  
“Will you need the stroller?” she asked as she handed their daughter over and put the bag into the car.  
“Nah,” Taylor assured as he moved around to put her into the car seat, “we’ll be fine. Should I bring her back here after?”  
“Give me a call and I’ll let you know how we’re going. I don’t know why, but there’s something up with Kate today…”  
“Tell me about it,” Taylor mused with a quick glance at the house to make sure Kate wasn’t around, “something’s up with Zac too. It’s been a fun morning.”  
“If he’s anything like Kate then you have my sympathy,” Natalie had come around to his side and took the moment to plant a kiss on his cheek.  
“See you when you get back.”  
“Will do,” he smiled in return before she disappeared into the house again.  
Taylor checked one last time that Willa was safe in her spot before closing the back door and returning to the driver’s seat.  
It took a little longer to get to the doctor surgery, but Willa was happily content with one of her stuffed animals. Occasionally Taylor would throw a glance in the mirror as he wondered why she was being so quiet, and all he got was a cheeky grin back.  
When he finally pulled up she let out a protest at the car stopping. With a chuckle to himself, he got himself out and went to fetch her things before fetching his daughter.  
“Come on Willa,” he said softly, “please don’t hate me for this. Hate the doctor instead, okay?”  
But she was busy looking around at where she was, her eyes soon falling on a toddler somewhere between hers and Viggo’s ages.  
Taylor made his way in to the front desk to announce their arrival before being directed through to the waiting area. It had been a long time since he’d been there – usually if one of the kids got sick he’d end up with the rest of them while Natalie dealt with it.  
He’d barely taken a seat before they were approached by one of the older female staff members.  
“Is that little Willa Hanson?” she cooed.  
“It is,” Taylor kept his voice high for her sake, though he was wary.  
“And where’s Mom today? We were expecting to see her here.”  
“She got caught up with work,” Taylor offered, calming already.  
“Oh well. Daddy will do, won’t he?” the nurse mused, taking the toy Willa offered her before handing it back to Taylor.  
“Thanks,” he smirked, setting it aside.  
A moment before Willa reached for it again and he had to hand it back.  
“You be good for Doctor Fenton,” the nurse tapped her on the nose, “bye Daddy.”  
“Bye,” Taylor smiled after her as she left.  
He heard her telling someone that she was going on a lunch break before she disappeared from sight.  
The timing wasn’t too bad, as Willa was just starting to get restless when Dr Fenton appeared and called her name. Glad they hadn’t had to wait too long Taylor collected her stuff and headed into his office.  
“Taylor, what a pleasant surprise,” the doctor greeted, “it’s been a long time.”  
“It has, I know,” Taylor agreed as the door was closed behind them and he set Willa on the bed.  
“You should really come for a check-up yourself, you know.”  
“I know, but I’m doing okay,” Taylor assured, “and today’s all about Willa.”  
“Oh yes,” the Doctor smiled in her direction before stepping over to the small bar fridge beside his desk and selecting the appropriate needle, “let’s get this out of the way, shall we?”


	2. Chapter 2

“It’s okay Willa, it’ll stop hurting soon I promise,” Taylor tried to comfort his daughter as she cried, her discomfort almost bringing tears to his own eyes.  
The doctor began to clean up after the jab before fetching a lollipop from a jar on his desk.  
“Here little Willa,” he offered in his usual calming tone, “this magic lollipop will take all the pain away.”  
Taylor took it and tried to get her to try it. It took some time before she was able to compose herself enough to pay attention to what he was doing, but she was soon reaching for it herself.  
“I have to say it’s part of the reason I make Nat do this, usually,” Taylor admitted with an awkward smile, “I hate seeing them hurting.”  
“It’s perfectly normal,” Dr Fenton assured as he went back to the fridge, “just as your mother hated having it done to you.”  
“Gosh, you really remember that far back?” Taylor was surprised.  
“I wasn’t here when you were Willa’s age of course, but certainly when you were a bit older. Of school age maybe. I remember her bringing in young… Avery was it? For her baby shots.”  
“Wow,” Taylor’s eyebrows rose, “you have a good memory. Better than mine.”  
“It’s nothing special.”  
Taylor frowned as he suddenly registered what the doctor was doing.  
“Did she need another one?” he asked, not sure if he could take a second round.  
“We are only half done,” Dr Fenton said calmly as he readied the second needle, “but we can take a moment beforehand. I would like to talk to you about something else.”  
Taylor took a deep breath and tried not to think about Willa being in pain again barely moments later. For now she was content with her lollipop, and he began hoping the sugar high would overtake any other reaction she might have.  
“What else?” he asked as the doctor took a seat with the needle still in his hand, “she’s okay otherwise, right?”  
“Willa’s fine,” he assured, “I wanted to talk about you.”  
“Me?” Taylor frowned, “what about me?”  
“Well like I said, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen you,” he seemed to shrug, “have you been to another doctor in the meantime?”  
“No,” Taylor’s frown didn’t waver.  
“Then it’s been approximately…” he leant over his desk to check an open file, “five years and seven months since you’ve been here yourself. And I believe that was purely for a common cold.”  
“I have five kids and a career that has me travelling all over the world, as you know,” Taylor went on the defence, “I just haven’t needed to come and see you, that’s all.”  
“Not even for a spot check? You’re thirty now, I believe. Even having five kids is already a good enough reason to make sure your prostate is in order.”  
Taylor felt himself flushing already. It really was just something he hadn’t considered he’d needed done.  
“I’ll think about it,” he tried to turn the subject away, “and I’ll need to find time between family and work.”  
“You really should,” the doctor insisted, “as uncomfortable as it might be, it will only be worse if something goes wrong and it’s too late to fix.”  
“I know,” Taylor assured, turning his attention back to Willa.  
He quickly wiped some dried tears from her eyes and planted a comforting kiss on her forehead.  
“Can we hurry and get the second one out of the way?” he asked.  
“We will,” Dr Fenton leant forward, “but have you also considered having some prevention tests done? I could send you to have some blood taken today, it wouldn’t take long…”  
“Doc, I’m fine,” Taylor stared him down as he started to get annoyed, “can we please just focus on Willa today? I really need to get back to work as soon as possible.”  
The doctor hesitated at Taylor’s tone, and he couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. He knew the guy was just trying to help.  
With a sigh he shifted Willa in his lap before standing to take her over to the bed again. She was immediately wary, remembering what had happened last time she lay there.  
“Very well,” Dr Fenton conceded, “just make sure you make that appointment.”  
“I will,” Taylor lied as he turned his eyes away to ready his daughter, “so what is this second one anyway?”  
“It’s a mild yet powerful sedative,” the doctor said as he came to Taylor’s side.  
“A what?”  
Taylor looked up in time to see and feel the needle go into his neck. Freezing in shock for a moment he didn’t have enough time to defend himself before the drug went into his system. As his hands flew to Dr Fenton’s to ward him off, half the drug had been injected already and the man backed off of his own accord.  
“What are you doing?!” Taylor frowned, one hand at his throat where he still felt the needle – the other keeping Willa from rolling off the edge of the bed.  
At this point he wasn’t even sure if he was awake. Why would his doctor do that?  
“It’s just a little something to make you sleep,” Dr Fenton said in his calm tone, turning to place the needle in a holder so the remaining contents could be used later.  
Taylor’s eyes darted around the room as he came to terms with what was happening, and he immediately took Willa from the table and leant down to grab her bag.  
“I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but-“  
He cut off as he fell against the back of the chair the bag had been sitting on. He was already finding it hard to keep his eyes open and focused, and panic was quickly rising in his chest.  
When he looked up he saw the doctor opening the back door to his office – one that led out to their private car lot.  
“Please, Taylor…”  
He’d barely registered the doctor returning to his side until he was there.  
“Hand me young Willa. You wouldn’t want to drop her.”  
“You’re not taking my daughter,” Taylor gasped out, dropping the bag as he focused on her instead.  
“Well I’m hardly going to leave her here now, am I?”  
The prospect of his daughter being kidnapped or taken for ransom won out over anything else and he kept his hold on her as he tried to get to the inside door. He barely made it halfway before falling to his knees.  
“You’re just being silly now,” he heard Dr Fenton standing over him already, “come now. Don’t let her fall.”  
“Is anybody out there?!” Taylor tried to call out before he felt a hand clamp over his mouth.  
As he tried to fend it off he lost his balance and hit the floor. Willa’s cries of surprise hit his ears a moment before he felt her taken from his arms.  
“Please don’t hurt her,” he managed to get out before passing out altogether.


	3. Chapter 3

Taylor groaned as he came to, trying to force his eyes open as he turned his head. It felt like he was waking up from a very deep sleep and he didn’t really want to move at all.  
Suddenly feeling like he was going to choke on something forced his eyes open, and he tried to use his hand to move whatever was in his mouth. Finding himself unable to get his hand to it made him look up to his right.  
His wrist was tied to something wooden with what looked like dark maroon cloth.  
Suddenly a lot more awake, he looked to his left to see that wrist in a mirrored position. It was then that he realised he was on a bed and his wrists were tied to the headboard.  
He was also gagged. Thankfully not tight enough to actually choke him.  
Trying to sit up, he soon also found that his left ankle had a silver chain around it which was padlocked together on the outer edge. He couldn’t see where the chain led, but it stopped him from pulling his knee up very far. His right ankle was the only one not restrained.  
Once he’d taken a moment to get over the initial shock and had tested the strength of the bonds, he finally began to take in his surroundings.  
There was a staircase to the right of the bed which he couldn’t see the other side of. Through the railing he could just make out a box air conditioner on the far wall, which showed just how big the room was. The first part of the floor he could see held a large square of tarp, which almost touched a large square rug sitting on the floor in front of the bed. They took up most of the floor space.  
The opposite wall held bookcases stacked with CDs, DVDs and books. In front of the bookcases were two television sets – the one on the left an old one and the other a flat screen. Both were on and playing, but he could only see the screen on the one on the right which was playing CNN. The audio was up pretty loud and he could easily make out the current story which had something to do with the current financial market.  
To the left of the television sets were a set of cupboards against the left wall. They were the kind that looked like lockers, and appeared to be all locked. Just in front of those sat a chair which the jacket he’d been wearing that morning had been thrown over. That appeared to be the extent of his view.  
There were no windows that he could see.  
In the time it took to take the room in, Taylor’s memory was slowly returning to him. He remembered taking Willa to the doctors for her needle. He remembered Dr Fenton pressing him about not going to see him often enough. He vaguely remembered the doctor attacking him and taking Willa away.  
 _Willa_.  
The thought of his daughter having been taken by whoever had put him there sent another surge of adrenaline through him, waking him up even more. He tried to use his right foot to push himself further up onto the bed as he tried to reach the cloth on his right wrist with his teeth, but he still couldn’t reach by at least a foot. Failing that he tried to see exactly what the cloth was anchored to. It appeared to be looped around a carving in the top corner of the ornate headboard, but was actually tied somewhere below where he obviously couldn’t reach. A look to his left found the same problem.  
Leaning up to give himself some leverage, he got a grip on the cloth that held his right hand and tested it with his nails. It was certainly thick, but if he worked at it he was sure he could at least get a ladder going and that would weaken it substantially.  
He felt as if he was just starting to make headway when he heard a door at the top of the stairs opening. Wondering for a moment if he should pretend that he was still asleep, he soon locked eyes with Dr Fenton as he took a quick look over the railing down toward him.  
Without saying anything he turned to close the door behind him before making his way down the rickety stairs. He was carrying a small white bucket with him.  
It wasn’t until he made it to the bottom that he spoke.  
“I’m sorry,” he apologised straight away, “I was hoping to be here when you woke up. I hope you weren’t too frightened… I know this may appear sudden.”  
Taylor just frowned knowing that anything he replied with wouldn’t be understood. He continued running his nails through the cloth, hoping the doctor wouldn’t notice.  
He froze in the movement when he realised the doctor was taking the moment to stare at him and shuddered a little on the inside. Aside from the whole scenario being wrong, there was something in the doctor’s eyes he’d never seen before.  
He eventually broke if off, setting the bucket carefully on the chair where Taylor’s jacket was. Taylor immediately got back to work on the cloth.  
“Unfortunately I’m not quite ready to begin our introductions just yet, there are a few things I must tend to first,” he began again, his eyes to the bucket as he pulled some surgical gloves from his pocket and slowly put them on.  
A muffled grunt escaped Taylor’s lips as he saw what he was doing, not wanting to know what he needed them for. He tried to work his nails faster.  
When the doctor was done, he made his way over to the end of the bed and reached for Taylor’s right foot. Taylor pulled it in when he saw what he was doing, making the doctor give him a condescending look. Instead, he stepped around to the right side of the bed and took a surprisingly strong hold of his right calf. Taylor moaned his protest as he continued trying to pull away while the doctor began rolling up the leg of his jeans.  
“ _What are you doing?!_ ”  
The doctor hushed him as he began to feel down the back of Taylor’s leg. More than a little uncomfortable at the touch, Taylor kept his eye on him as he felt the small line of cloth he’d been working on finally start to give way.  
“There it is,” the doctor was looking to the ceiling as he smiled to himself, pausing down at the back of Taylor’s ankle.  
He leant down to the edge of the bed as Taylor looked up, trying to work out what he’d found. When Taylor saw the metallic mallet he’d picked up his eyes widened and he fought against the doctor’s grip even more so.  
“Calm down, it has to be done,” Dr Fenton said in his usual tone.  
The same tone he’d used on Willa that morning. Recognising it and momentarily distracted by the thought of Willa again, Taylor didn’t hear anything until the loud crack that signalled the breakage of one of his ankle bones.  
Gagged or not, he yelled. His foot now limp, the doctor set it carefully onto the bed as he moved around to fetch the bucket he’d set aside earlier.  
“I’m sorry it hurts,” Taylor barely made out his words, “but in six weeks it’ll be good as new, I promise.”  
Taylor tried to take deep breaths as he arched his back into the pillows – trying to free his wrist momentarily forgotten for now. When Fenton returned to his side with the bucket and a towel, he saw it had been full of liquid plaster which he was now going to use to set his broken ankle with.


	4. Chapter 4

Once the ankle had been set in plaster, the doctor wrapped it in gauze before cleaning up the minimal mess he’d made in the process. Taylor was still squirming on the bed, his knuckles having been white for a long time now and sure his nails were cutting into the palms of his hands.  
The chain on his left ankle was pulled taut as he tried to keep his knees together.  
The pain itself was confirmation that this was all too real. Up until then he’d still somehow hoped it was a nightmare he’d wake up from.  
When the doctor was done cleaning, he set the bucket aside before pulling the chair over closer to the left side of the bed. When it was close enough, he took a seat.  
“I was hoping to have that done before you woke up,” he began calmly, “I didn’t want to cause you more pain than needed.”  
Taylor’s brow furrowed incredulously. He kept his head on the pillow but his eyes to the doctor, worried already at what might be coming next.  
“I know you must be wondering why you’re here,” Fenton began, looking almost bashful as his eyes lowered, “and I promise you it has nothing to do with young Wilhelmina.”  
 _Willa._  
“Where is she?!”  
“I’m sorry,” the doctor spoke as if he were about to explain something serious to a child, “I can’t understand anything you say with that on.”  
 _”Then take it off!”_  
“I want to talk to you about why you’re here, and about what you can do for me.”  
Taylor rolled his eyes and leant his head back as he realised he was just going to be ignored. Now that he was somewhat thinking clearly again, he resumed what he’d been doing with the cloth to his right.  
“You see, I’ve been watching you for a long time now.”  
Taylor frowned at that, casting a wary look in the doctor’s direction once again.  
Fenton took a deep breath, then chuckled slightly to himself.  
“I didn’t think this would be so hard to explain, I do apologise,” he said sincerely, “but I guess what I’m trying to say, is that I’ve always admired you. There is a reason I remember your family coming to see me back when you were but a child. It’s because I remember you.”  
Taylor’s brow only furrowed deeper as he tried to comprehend exactly what was happening here. When the doctor pulled the chair in closer, he shifted as far across the bed as he could get. It wasn’t far at all and Fenton easily rested a hand on Taylor’s chest.  
“You’ve always meant a great deal to me. More than you’ve ever known.”  
Taylor groaned and closed his eyes, hoping he didn’t know where this was headed.  
“Watching you grow up. Hitting the limelight, yet always remaining true to yourself and to your family. Starting your own family. And then of course bringing them to me.”  
Taylor didn’t think he could regret that decision any more than he did right now.  
He cringed as he suddenly felt the man’s hand slowly move down toward his stomach.  
“But of course I waited. I waited until you came of age. Then I waited as almost immediately you found Natalie and fathered young Ezra.”  
Taylor caught his breath as the hand paused at his belt and he finally opened his eyes again.  
“Then you just stopped coming to see me,” he sounded almost forlorn, “once Penelope came onto the scene you suddenly left everything to Natalie and I only saw you when you were seriously ill.”  
 _”I have a career,”_ he tried to reiterate.  
“But now that you’re thirty, well… there’s no need to really skirt around the issue any longer.”  
 _”What issue?!”_  
“Calm down,” Fenton insisted, giving his abdomen a pat, “all will be revealed in time. For now you need plenty of bed rest, and to keep that fractured fibula elevated.”  
Taylor groaned again, giving up on the cloth for a moment when he registered that he might be left alone for a while. No sense in getting caught now if he was going to have all the time in the world shortly.  
Before Fenton could remove his hand, Taylor’s stomach suddenly growled. Taylor froze before his eyes darted up. This might at least be a chance to get the gag off.  
“Sorry about that,” Fenton rubbed his stomach before standing from the chair.  
“Your diet will need to be rearranged for the moment. I can’t take the chance that you may overpower me. Two days without sustenance should weaken you enough.”  
 _”What?!”_  
“Don’t fret,” Fenton tried to reassure him, “I am a doctor. I will not push your body any further than it can naturally handle. But I will endeavour to make sure your vitamin and mineral intake is substantiated.”  
Taylor tried not to panic over the prospect, keeping in mind that he’d hopefully free himself before long.  
Fenton moved the chair back to where it had been before stepping over to check the settings on the air conditioner. He adjusted it slightly before they heard a phone ringing upstairs.  
“Excuse me,” Fenton eyed Taylor as he made for the stairs, “I’ll be back soon.”  
As he made his way up the stairs Taylor suddenly registered a baby’s cries from somewhere through the door as well. Once Fenton had the door open, he immediately recognised it as Willa.  
 _”WILLA?!”_  
He tried to sit up again, inadvertently hitting his broken ankle against the chain. While the plaster held it fast the tap had sent a bolt of pain shooting up his leg. He didn’t recover before the door was closed.  
Trying to catch his breath again as Willa’s cries gave him a renewed adrenaline rush, he got back to work on the cloth on his wrist. He’d certainly managed to create a ladder in the fabric, but the thickness meant it was going to take a lot more than that to get it off.  
After a few sharp tugs proved the point, he spread it a bit wider with his fingers and started on a run to the other side.  
It felt like forever before he got one going, and he could no longer hear Fenton’s voice through the door once he had. He darted a glance upward every now and then just to make sure he was still alone, but he counted on Fenton having to deal with something that might have taken some time.  
A rip suddenly sounded, signalling the ladder coming apart on that side of the cloth. Not wasting any time he quickly began work on another toward the centre.  
The centre was easier to corrupt, holding most of the tension in the fabric. In no time he had a third ladder going, and once he’d managed to rip it clear he started giving sharp tugs again.  
One side gave way almost immediately, and he pulled himself up so he could tug harder. Once the second tore apart the third came just one tug later.  
His hand immediately flew to the gag, pulling it from his mouth before he leant over to untie his left wrist. The knots were simple enough, but impossible to untangle with one hand. Lending his teeth to the cause he soon had both hands free and had slid down to the end of the bed.


	5. Chapter 5

When Taylor saw where the chain on his left ankle was anchored, his heart sank. It was looped and padlocked around the leg of the bed which in turn had been bolted to the floor.  
He wasn’t going anywhere if he couldn’t get the chain off.  
Leaning forward so that he could land on his hands rather than his plastered ankle, he fell to the floor where the chain soon pooled around him. The padlocks were both standard and new, and he soon figured his best chance was to try and pick the locks. There was nothing he could use to try and get the bed unbolted from the floor, and even if he managed that he’d still have to contend with the chain being on his ankle.  
On the other hand the chain was thin, and if he found something heavy enough he might have been able to break it.  
Sliding himself backwards on the floor, he reached up to where his jacket still sat on the chair and pulled it down. He quickly went through the pockets to see if his phone or anything else was still there but they’d been completely emptied.  
Setting it aside he lay down onto his stomach to have a quick look under the bed to see if anything was kept down there. Aside from dust, there was nothing.  
With a grunt he pulled himself up again and had another look around the room. When his eyes fell on the opposite wall below the air conditioner that he hadn’t been able to see past the staircase beforehand, he gulped. Above the tarp there was a steel rack set up, and hanging from it were multiple combinations of leather and chain for what could only be BDSM restraint purposes.  
“What the…?”  
A sound from upstairs snapped him out of it, and he once again felt the panic rising in his chest. He didn’t know how he was going to get out with a broken ankle but he was sure as Hell going to try. As long as he was free he could certainly put up a fight.  
He slid his fingertips along the cracks in the floorboards first to see if there might have been any loose wires that he could use on the locks. Coming up empty he took hold of the chair to test its weight. He immediately knew it wouldn’t be any help; it was far too light. The next closest thing aside from the staircase was the first cupboard.  
Hoping that it was both heavy enough to do some damage to the chain but light enough to not squash him if it fell on top of him, he had to lay out on his stomach in order to reach it.  
It was certainly heavy, which with the aluminium outer shell implied it must have been full.  
He managed to pull it out a couple of inches from the wall, sparing a glance up at the door when it made a loud scraping noise across the floor. Knowing that even if Fenton came back now he’d still make an attempt anyway kept him from pausing too long.  
He managed to pull it about a foot toward him where he could get a better grip on it, so it was much easier to pull in closer. When he had it close enough that he could sit up he tilted it to test how much weight was actually in it. There was a lot.  
He pulled his foot back as far as he could, leaving the chain taut against the bed. There was a maximum of three feet leverage. Closing his eyes for a moment and silently praying that it didn’t land on his leg instead, he gave the cupboard a careful push and let it fall hard across the chain.  
Knowing the noise was going to alert Fenton, he quickly tested the chain now under the weight of the cabinet.  
Now it was just stuck.  
“Damn it,” he cursed, already trying to lift the cupboard in order to try again.  
It was in such an awkward position that he couldn’t pick himself up and use the bed or chair for leverage, and there were barely inches of the chain free between his ankle and the cabinet. When he managed to get it about a foot from the ground he moved to put his weight underneath it and happened to glance up at the door again.  
Fenton stood in the open doorway looking down at him, Willa perched comfortably on his hip.  
Taylor froze, eyes locked.  
“What are you doing, Taylor?” Fenton asked in a surprisingly calm tone.  
Now even more on edge, Taylor carefully slid himself out from under the cabinet and strategically dropped it onto the chain again. A sharp tug told him it hadn’t broken so he didn’t have to take his eyes away from Fenton.  
He took a step toward the railing, sitting Willa’s leg gently on the edge.  
“Are you going to answer me?” he asked after a moment’s silence.  
“Why do you have her?” Taylor’s eyes darted between them from where he remained sitting on the floor.  
“Well like I said,” Fenton turned his attention to the little girl, playing with her fingers as she watched him curiously, “I was hardly going to leave her to fend for herself. And it seems as though her presence may come in handy for more than just saving face.”  
Taylor took the moment Fenton was distracted to lean against the toppled cabinet and pull himself up so that he was standing on his chained foot.  
“What do you mean by that?” Taylor hoped what he was thinking wasn’t it.  
When Fenton suddenly lifted Willa over the edge of the stair rail, Taylor momentarily forgot his limitations.  
“FENTON NO!” he yelled, tripping on the chain and landing on his knees at the end of the bed.  
The chain held him too far back to have any chance of saving her if she fell. When Fenton simply raised his brow, Taylor tried to compose himself.  
“Fenton please,” he begged, “you promised me this had nothing to do with her. Please just let her go.”  
“Let her go?” Fenton feigned dropping her then and there.  
“NO!” Taylor fell again, trying to reach as far across the bed as he could.  
More at her father’s yells than the height, Willa started to get upset.  
“Oh I’m sorry, you didn’t specify,” Fenton mused.  
“Just tell me what you want,” Taylor pleaded, “we can leave her out of this. I swear I’ll do whatever you want as long as you don’t hurt her.”  
It was a lie, but Taylor was already sure he was dealing with a madman. A madman who’d unfortunately had a long time to plan ahead.  
A madman who had hold of his daughter.  
“For now,” Fenton began calmly, “I would like you to get back on the bed.”  
“I’m going, I’m going,” Taylor insisted, reaching down to try and move the cabinet aside so he could get the slack from the chain back.  
The current adrenaline rush helped move the weight, and he soon had the chain back. He turned and fell down onto his side on the bed, scooting over as close as he could to the edge near the staircase.  
Fenton watched him move, before gently pulling Willa back over the railing and starting down.  
“You do know, Taylor, that when an infant’s bones break they’re never quite the same again?”  
“I’m here!” Taylor reiterated, “I’m on the bed, you don’t have to hurt her!”


	6. Chapter 6

Taylor couldn’t see the wall of restraints from where he was, but just knowing they were there above where Willa had been left to roam on the tarp made his skin crawl.  
He kept his eyes to the ceiling as Fenton went about his work, using the cloth to retie his left wrist with more complicated knots. When he’d finished and moved around to the right side he took a moment to look at what Taylor had done before clicking his tongue to himself.  
“I see what you did here,” he mused, “we’ll have to stop that from happening again.”  
“You haven’t told me why I’m here,” Taylor looked across to see him untying the cloth from where it was anchored down the back, “fair enough you ‘admire’ me or whatever, but what exactly do you want from me?”  
Fenton ignored him for the moment, taking the cloth with him back into the room. He stepped around Willa who was watching him from the floor and went to the rack.  
Clenching his teeth as he tried not to imagine what he’d gone to fetch, Taylor could only wait until he returned. When he did he saw him tying one side of the cloth to one side of the cuffs of a set of police-issue handcuffs. Taylor gulped a little when he saw them, subconsciously holding his fist in to his chest and casting another glance at Willa.  
“I only want your co-operation,” Fenton had taken so long to answer that Taylor hadn’t thought he was going to.  
“In what?” Taylor asked straight away.  
Once Fenton had the knots secure he made his way to the head of the bed to anchor the cloth again.  
“In whatever I ask of you,” he replied.  
“And what are you asking of me?” Taylor frowned.  
Without replying, Fenton stood again and held out his hand. Taking a moment to look across at Willa again before he did so, Taylor relinquished his right hand.  
Fenton secured the cuff around his wrist before testing the pull himself to make sure it was held fast.  
“Nothing, for now,” he finally replied.  
“If you’re not planning to feed me for two days, how long are you planning to keep me here?” Taylor asked warily, leaning up a little as Willa began to crawl behind the staircase and out of sight.  
“Don’t worry about that,” Fenton insisted, making his way down the bed and across to the rack again.  
“You can’t just keep me locked in your basement like some kind of pet!” Taylor exclaimed once he was out of sight, “people are going to come looking for us! They’re gonna work out that you were the last person to see us. They are _going_ to find us!”  
“I am anticipating a police interview in the coming few days,” Fenton’s voice came from the other side of the room, “but not to worry, it has been planned well ahead.”  
Once Willa disappeared from sight altogether Taylor’s head hit the pillows again. His eyes darted across the ceiling as he tried to think of something else.  
“If this really is just about me, can you _please_ take Willa home?” he asked.  
“I think she can stay with us for at least a few days,” Fenton replied, making Taylor cringe, “I have someone who can look after her while I return to work.”  
“Oh God,” Taylor breathed, testing the cuff himself for the first time before Fenton returned to view.  
“Not to worry. I could never truly bring myself to endanger one of your children. They are yours, after all.”  
Taylor barely had time to comprehend the implications of what he’d just said, too occupied by what he held in his hands. Noticing his stare Fenton held them up.  
“You have a choice,” he offered, “ball… or bar?”  
“Can I go with option C? Neither?” Taylor asked hopefully, already having trouble controlling his fear again.  
“There is an option C,” Fenton considered, “but it’s a hood. I doubt you’re ready for that kind of restriction yet.”  
Taylor closed his eyes, trying not to panic at the idea alone already. He was surprised at how well he was handling it as it was. When he heard Fenton move his eyes shot open again.  
“Have you ever worn a ball gag before?” he asked.  
“No,” Taylor scorned, “why would-? No! And I don’t want to start!”  
“We can work up to that then,” Fenton decided, setting the ball gag onto the chair before making his way down the side of the bed.  
“Work up to it?” Taylor looked incredulous, “why do I need it at all?! Who’s gonna hear me?!”  
“We are in a residential area, unfortunately,” Fenton revealed, “I was unable to secure a more secluded property.”  
Taylor’s eyes widened, realising he might have missed an opportunity already. He immediately took a sharp breath and started screaming for help.  
Fenton was on him in seconds, clamping a hand over his mouth.  
“Calm down,” he insisted, “I know my neighbours well, and they expect loud noises from here.”  
Taylor tried to pull away from his hand, but again Fenton’s strength was surprising. Hearing Willa starting to cry from the other side of the room only made him clench his fists.  
“I understand it may take some time to get used to being here,” Fenton assured in his usual calm tone, “and you may be working yourself up to the stage of anger right now, but very soon - I promise you - you will come to accept it.”  
Taylor moaned under his hand as Fenton readied the gag in his other. When he had to pull his hand away to fix the buckle, Taylor took advantage.  
“I’ll _never_ accept being here!” he scorned, “if it’s a ransom or something just tell me what you want so we can get it over with! Willa and I need to go home!”  
Fenton took hold of Taylor’s jaw and pressed the leather bit into his mouth before pulling his head forward to secure the buckle.  
“I’d never hold you for ransom,” he continued in the same tone, “for that it would have been much easier just to simply take your daughter.”  
When he was done he pushed Taylor back and stood aside the bed again, looking down.  
“What I want, is you. And now that I have you, you won’t be going anywhere.”  
Taylor frowned as Fenton turned his back and went to fetch Willa whose cries had died down. When he lifted her into his arms Taylor could see that her face was red.  
“I’m going to go and put little Willa down for the night. I will be back to settle you in once she’s asleep,” Fenton informed him as he took her to the stairwell.  
Taylor had to force his eyes not to tear as he saw Willa reaching out for him on the way up. But she was otherwise silent as she and Fenton disappeared up into the house.  
With a groan he worked his jaw around the gag, already knowing it was going to be an uncomfortable night. He tried to keep his mind off it by focusing on Willa, listening intently as he could barely hear Fenton talking softly to her through the open door.  
Willing her not to do anything to aggravate Fenton, he began to feel out the cloth on his left wrist.


	7. Chapter 7

Taylor hadn’t been able to start a ladder in the cloth before Fenton returned to the basement. His eyes immediately fell on a silver case Fenton was carrying as he made his way down the stairs, but Fenton said nothing as he came around and set the case onto the chair. Taylor watched on worriedly as he opened the case and began readying some pieces of tubing.  
“ _What is that?_ ” he tried to ask, the bar of the gag hitting his tongue and automatically making him drool a little.  
Fenton just hushed him, making Taylor fall back onto the pillows again. He didn’t know how long he could handle not getting answers for. It was already driving him crazy.  
When Fenton had finished what he was doing he came to Taylor’s left side and set the tubing on the bed. Without so much as a second of pause he leant over and took hold of Taylor’s belt and started to unbuckle it.  
“ _What are you doing?!_ ” Taylor panicked, immediately pulling on the chain again and squeezing his knees together as hard as he could.  
“Now, now,” Fenton assured in a calm tone, “I can hardly expect that you’ll last the night without needing to go to the bathroom. Surely you realise that.”  
Taylor’s brow furrowed when he realised what Fenton was doing and he almost choked on bile. He groaned in protest as he tried using his right knee to fend Fenton away, but the doctor managed to get his fly undone all the same. He struggled with Taylor’s jeans - the entire time with a look on his face as if he were trying to control a stubborn child - but soon had access to his underwear.  
Taylor dug his head back into the pillow and only groaned louder as he realised he was losing the fight.   
Fenton took his underwear down and gently took hold of him for the first time. Taylor squeezed his eyes shut and went back to trying to convince himself that it was all a nightmare. Eventually he had to wake up in bed beside Natalie. He just had to.  
Fenton took a moment to look him over before tightly attaching some form of condom-like rubber to the end. Taylor knew it must have been linked to the tubing, allowing for him to relieve himself without having to move. He tried to keep himself occupied by praying for it to be over quickly, and Fenton just as soon pulled away. He had looped the tubing through one of the legs so that he could replace Taylor’s underwear, but he didn’t bother trying to raise his jeans again.  
“There,” Fenton spoke to himself as he set something aside the bed and returned to the case.  
Taylor tried to blink stray tears away, already wondering if what had just happened had been real. But he could still feel the rubber against his skin confirming it all too easily.  
“I don’t suppose you’d be able to test that for me while I’m still here?” Fenton appeared in Taylor’s left peripheral with something in his hands.  
Taylor wasn’t sure how to respond in a way that Fenton could understand. But when he saw what Fenton was holding he almost forgot the last ten minutes.  
“Calm down,” Fenton almost sighed as Taylor started pulling on his arms again, “there’s a few things I need to take care of which I can’t do while you’re awake. This should give you a deep sleep through until morning.”  
“ _Get it away from me!_ ” Taylor cried through the gag, again drooling uncontrollably which only made him feel worse.  
Fenton readied the syringe before swabbing a place on his outstretched left arm, quickly injecting the sedative before Taylor had much more of a chance to pull away.  
Resigned to the fact that it was too late, Taylor slumped back onto the bed. Fenton took in his demeanour before returning to the case and procuring a second syringe.  
“I’d also not like you to succumb to lockjaw, which is an unfortunate side effect of the gag you’re wearing.”  
Taylor looked across at him silently, not sure what to make of anything the man said.  
“So once you’re asleep I’ll change it for you,” Fenton offered a small smile, “you should wake up much more comfortable.”  
Taylor gulped slightly, trying to swallow some of the extra spit with it. He turned his gaze to the ceiling not wanting to know what else Fenton was going to do.  
He could already feel the sedative taking hold.  
Fenton took some time to check over the cloth holding Taylor’s left wrist before sighing as he ran his hand down his arm. Taylor couldn’t help but shiver at the touch, even though the room was quite warm.  
“Just so that you’re aware…” Fenton began softly as he looked his body over, “I will need to run some tests. For which I need samples. I will take them once you fall asleep to cause you less pain but you may wake up with similar pains to this.”  
He gently tapped near the small blood spot where the sedative had gone into Taylor’s arm.  
“ _Why?_ ” Taylor tried to ask, knowing he probably wouldn’t be answered and closing his eyes as he tried to swallow spit again.  
Fenton watched him in silence. Taylor was already too tired to even worry about how unsettling being under his gaze was.  
“Taylor?”   
Taylor’s eyes darted across to him, even as they started to droop. He was already beginning to feel like he was in a dream and it actually managed to calm him somewhat.  
“If I am not here when you wake up, rest assured I am taking care of Wilhelmina,” Fenton promised, “and I will be home to check on you as soon as I can.”  
Taylor’s eyes slid closed involuntarily and he struggled to hold them open again. He saw Fenton preparing another swab before dabbing it onto his arm again.  
“And I will turn off the lights so that you can sleep,” Fenton added as he reached over to untie Taylor’s wrist.  
Taylor felt the alarm bells going off in his head telling him he needed to act. His left arm was now free but he found he didn’t even have the strength to raise it. As he cursed Fenton in his head his eyes closed again one last time.  
He felt Fenton lay his arm down onto the bed before prodding the nook of his elbow for a suitable vein. Taylor felt the second needle go in but he didn’t feel it come out.  
Fenton moved his arm, tucking Taylor’s hand under his head to keep the wound sealed. Taylor knew all he had to do was move it slightly to the right and he’d be able to get the gag off himself, but he couldn’t even twitch a finger at this point.  
Along with his physical sedation he became so mentally drained that he didn’t even register how helpless he’d become.   
He felt as Fenton carefully sat beside him on the bed and reached over to touch his face. He gently used his thumb to pull one of Taylor’s eyelids back in order to check the dilation of his pupils. Satisfied, he pulled his arm down again, and stood up from the bed.  
The last thing Taylor felt before finally passing out altogether was Fenton pulling down on his jeans once again.


	8. Chapter 8

Taylor slowly awoke to the sound of the CNN morning news bulletin. Wondering for a moment at why the radio would be on so loud, it took a few seconds for him to succumb to the familiar choking sensation.  
He was once again gagged with cloth.  
His eyes struggled to open but it didn’t do much good. The basement was in darkness aside from the dual television screens and a sliver of golden light coming from somewhere to the right. A quick look to the right and left saw that his wrists remained restrained in the same way Fenton had left him, and he could certainly feel what was still in his pants.  
With a groan his head hit the pillows again. He needed to wake up more. He needed to think of a plan.  
The more he awoke, the more he felt.  
His teeth clenched tightly against the gag as he felt the sudden sting in his testis. He could feel the same pain in both his hip and his arm, but it hurt so much more in the obvious place. He squeezed his eyes closed again as he tried to control it, not letting the pain overwhelm him and take his mind off his task.  
Breathing deeply through his nose he finally opened his eyes again and tried to focus on the top of the stair rail. By crossing his right leg over his left he was able to alleviate the pain a little, but he was already wondering how much time had passed if it still hurt so badly.  
He started to pay attention the news broadcast. He couldn’t quite make out the numbers on screen from this far but he could wait until they mentioned the time. He wasn’t exactly going anywhere.  
For now.  
When he felt he was awake enough to be sure there was definitely no sign of Fenton – either in the room or from noise upstairs – he began work on the cloth around his left wrist. It was harder from the start having to use his left hand and not being able to be as accurate with his nails, but he just couldn’t reach the cloth to his right no matter how taut he pulled the chain.  
Before he could get the first ladder going he heard the anchor say it was nearing 9am. Taylor dearly hoped that meant Fenton would be back at work for the day. He remembered him saying something about having someone to look after Willa while he did.  
If he could manage to get free, he’d put the authorities onto it. It must have been one of Fenton’s close friends for him to trust them with her (if they’d even known who she in fact was) so they wouldn’t be too hard to find once Fenton was in custody.  
Taylor grunted as the first ladder broke and fumbled with the cloth to start again in another place. With nothing else to do he kept his eye on both the television screen and on the stairs. He knew the house was old and somewhat creaky, but Fenton had surprised him before.  
Able to keep track of the time thanks to the news he knew it took almost a half hour to break through the next ladder. With a groan he stopped to rest for a while. Not only was it hard work but between the drugs still in his system and not having eaten anything in almost a day’s time now he could barely keep himself conscious at times.  
He found himself having to use the makeshift bathroom a lot faster than he’d hoped.  
Willing himself not to fall back asleep, he managed to focus on the cloth until sometime before midday when he finally broke through. His hand once again flew to the gag to remove it before reaching over to his right.  
He knew he wasn’t about to get the knots undone one-handed, but he wasn’t sure if he could reach with his teeth for this one. Being diagonally opposite of where the chain on his ankle was anchored made it almost impossible to reach, but with some effort he managed to untangle the centre of the cloth from the top of the bedpost and loosen it a little.  
With help from his teeth it only took a few minutes to get the knot undone and he finally sat up on the bed again.  
His hand went to his crotch, trying once again to alleviate the pain still there. It was already settling a little now that he’d moved.   
He removed the apparatus that Fenton had put on him, grimacing as he set it aside before shifting to the end of the bed and doing up his jeans again. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what Fenton had done while he’d been out.  
A quick look with what little light there was allowed him to see that the cupboard he’d used to try and break the chain had been returned to its usual place. The chair was still there, but his jacket was gone. If he reached as far as he could he could probably touch the lower stair rails, but nothing else was in reach.  
“Dammit,” he cursed, trying to work out his options.  
He knew the cupboard was locked, but being only aluminium he may have been able to break it. There was no guarantee that anything inside would help him but it seemed like his only option.  
Aside from screaming himself hoarse. Suddenly remembering that Fenton had told him they were in a residential area, he said a quick prayer in the hopes he wasn’t coming home for lunch and he started to yell for help.  
With a pause every few moments to see if he could hear anything, he gave up after about five minutes. Anyone else in the neighbourhood was probably out themselves. Fenton didn’t seem the type to live in an average income area.  
With a groan he got down onto his knees on the floor and spread himself out on his stomach to reach for the cupboard again. It took more work but he soon managed to get it within range. With nothing more than the bed or chair to help break it he knew it was going to be awkward, but he opted to try smashing it onto the corner of the bed – and if he got lucky the bed might even break under the weight and free his ankle.  
Once he had the cupboard in what he thought would be the right position he pulled himself up onto his healthy foot and set the aim better. He paused to work himself up for a moment, then pushed it at an angle as hard as he could onto the bed frame.  
He absently hoped the crash would alert someone outside, but he was focused on the task at hand for now. The door to the cupboard dented but didn’t break. It took more time to get it standing upright again for the second try, but he was able to do more damage on the second go.  
It took five tries for one of the hinges to break, and the second came apart on the sixth. Taylor let it fall down onto its side before working to pull the door open, hoping more than anything that perhaps his personal effects had been left in here and he could use his cell phone to call for help.  
When he got the door off all he could see was thickened black cloth. With a frown he tried to pull it out, but there was too much of it. He ended up just shifting it around to see what else was in there, but all he could find were buckles and strapping.  
“Oh come on,” he almost whined, sitting back on the floor to think for a moment.  
The next cupboard along was too far out of reach. There was nothing on the cupboard itself that he could break off to use. There was nothing he could even throw at the two televisions to quiet them.  
Starting to really panic a little now, he set to yelling for help again.  
“SOMEBODY PLEASE! Help me! Please! Is anybody out there?!”


	9. Chapter 9

Judging by CNN, it was around 5:30pm when Taylor thought he heard something from outside. The distant rumble of an engine, followed by the opening and closing of two separate car doors.  
He couldn’t help but gulp a little. Fenton was home. He just prayed that Willa wasn’t with him.  
It took what seemed like a long time before Taylor heard anything else. He could hear footsteps above him, and for a second he thought he heard Willa trying to talk. Still hoping he was wrong he couldn’t do anything but wait for Fenton to make an appearance.  
It was still some time before he did. When he finally opened the door and saw what Taylor had done, he just paused at the top rail and stared down at him.  
Taylor stared back from where he was sitting on the bed, not sure what the man was going to do.   
Fenton stared just long enough to make Taylor ten times more uncomfortable than he already was before he disappeared back into the house without a word. With a frown Taylor inched himself toward the edge of the bed again, not sure what was happening.   
When Fenton reappeared with Willa on his hip, he froze.  
“What are you- NO!”  
Taylor was too late as Fenton simply stopped at the top stair rail, took hold of Willa’s left hand, and snapped her small finger.  
“FENTON NO!” Taylor yelled, standing on his chained foot again and watching desperately as his little girl started screaming.  
“There, there,” Fenton attempted to comfort her, holding her hand and letting her lean into his shoulder.  
“Please!” Taylor begged, “Fenton please, don’t take it out on her! I’m sorry!”  
He wasn’t. Fenton didn’t even bother looking down at him again, but he slowly began descending the stairs. Taylor watched him like a hawk. The way he was holding her and comforting her after what he’d just done made Taylor’s skin crawl.  
“Fenton come on…” Taylor’s voice broke as he stumbled to the side a little, “this isn’t fair on her and you know it. _Please_ just take her home?”  
“We want daddy to be quiet now, don’t we?” Fenton directed his words to Willa, still not bothering to look at Taylor as he made it to the floor.  
Taylor grimaced at that, holding himself back from pleading further. Willa had stopped screaming and started crying and he tried to focus on her.  
“Now we want daddy to get back on the bed and lay down,” Fenton’s voice became a little more forceful.  
Taylor grit his teeth. They were standing just out of reach, and if Fenton had taken one step closer he easily could have reached his daughter.  
He awkwardly took a seat on the end of the bed but didn’t move any further.  
“Please,” he asked in a small voice, “can I at least hold her? She’s in pain, she needs her father.”  
He panicked for a moment as Fenton moved his hand, worried he was going to hurt her again because he spoke. Fenton simply sighed as if considering it.  
“I’ll do whatever you want,” Taylor hated to promise, “if you just let me hold her. _Please_.”  
“You’d be grateful?” Fenton still wasn’t focused, but the question was obviously for Taylor.  
“Yes,” Taylor barely gasped out, “I would.”  
There was an awkward moment of silence which made Taylor glance at the television, before he jumped as Fenton took a step forward.  
Without saying anything he held Willa out, and Taylor took her into his arms as quickly as he could.  
“Hey, hey,” he immediately tried to console her, “it’s okay, I’m here, I’m here…”  
He kept Fenton in his peripheral as the doctor took a step back to wait. When he didn’t move any further Taylor closed his eyes as he hugged his daughter.  
“I’m so sorry baby girl, I’m sorry,” he whispered, “I’ll get you home soon, I promise.”  
He held her tightly until her cries died down, before shifting slightly to kiss her forehead.  
“It’s okay Willa, it’ll be okay…” he kept repeating gently as he tried to hold her hand out to see the damage done.  
“That’s enough,” Fenton said decidedly, making Taylor jump again.  
“No it isn’t,” Taylor scowled across at him.  
He’d barely been holding her a few minutes.  
When Fenton took a step forward Taylor flinched and shifted away, the chain dragging across the floorboards as he moved.  
“You told me you wouldn’t hurt her,” he accused, “you said you could never hurt one of my kids. You lied to me.”  
“You defied me,” Fenton returned in a smooth tone, “I was unable to safely approach you in order to carry out any other form of punishment.”  
Taylor kissed Willa’s forehead again, his mind racing to try and think of a way to talk Fenton out of this whole thing.  
“What do you want with me?” he tried asking again, knowing he might not get an answer but also playing for time.  
As predicted, Fenton remained silent. Taylor tried not to let it intimidate him and instead concentrated on trying to make his daughter feel better.  
Until he saw Fenton move out the corner of his eye.  
“You see this, Taylor?” he asked calmly.  
Taylor’s eyes darted to what he was holding up – a key – before looking back to him.  
“I’d wager you’ve spent all day working out that you can’t leave here without this,” he said simply.  
Taylor felt his hairs slowly standing on end. It was obviously the key to the chain.  
And Fenton was once again standing out of reach. As if to prove the point, Fenton stepped aside and walked over to the television sets where he placed it on top of the older set.  
“Why are you doing this to us?!” Taylor’s voice broke again as it rose, “why can’t you just give me a straight answer? I mean for the love of… you’re a doctor, how can you be so heartless?!”  
Fenton returned to lean on the stair rail, sans the key.  
“Spending so long around both life and death gives a certain… immunity to it,” he shrugged a little, “but that has nothing to do with this. I am genuinely sorry for Wilhelmina’s finger.”  
Taylor didn’t believe it for a second and only scowled in his direction.  
“Unfortunately I cannot set it in plaster, because then it would be too obvious that she was with a doctor when the break occurred,” Fenton hinted.  
“You can’t leave her like this,” Taylor’s frown deepened, “Fenton she’s in pain!”  
“And I will give her something for the pain,” Fenton assured, “as soon as you do as I ask.”  
Taylor grit his teeth at that. He knew the whole point of her being there still was to blackmail him. He was already wondering how far Fenton would take it.  
“What do you want?” he asked without raising his eyes.  
“I want you to place her on the floor,” Fenton instructed, “and let me approach you. Keeping in mind that if anything happens to me… well, the key is out of reach, isn’t it?”


	10. Chapter 10

“Can I please at least have a drink of water?” Taylor asked as Fenton unlocked the free side of the handcuffs still hanging from his right wrist.  
“No,” Fenton responded simply, “now lay down.”  
“Can’t I stay sitting?” Taylor frowned, “I’m not going anywhere, why do I need-“  
“Lay down,” Fenton repeated in a slightly harsher tone, “you will be able to sit later.”  
Taylor couldn’t help but feel a little relieved that Fenton wasn’t just planning to keep him on the bed forever. Keeping the thought in mind he kept his eye on Willa as he shifted backward and inched down onto his side.  
“On your stomach,” Fenton instructed.  
“What? Why?” Taylor frowned, looking up again.  
Fenton sighed and looked pointedly at Willa. Taylor took the hint and quickly shifted.  
He kept his eye on Fenton as he made his way down the side of the bed, but didn’t resist when Fenton cuffed his hands behind him.   
“How long do I have to stay like this?” he thought to ask as Fenton moved away again, “the whole time I can’t eat?”  
Predictably, Fenton didn’t respond. Taylor groaned and dug his face into the bedcovers as he was forced to wait.  
“What if I need the bathroom?” he asked.  
“I will set the line up again,” Fenton promised, making Taylor grimace into the sheets a little.  
“The other bathroom,” he emphasised.  
He heard Fenton pause, but he could feel his face going red at the subject matter and wasn’t about to turn and face him.  
“I could take your jeans off altogether,” Fenton considered after a moment.  
“No,” Taylor replied instantly, pulling his right leg in for emphasis and rolling back onto his side.  
“It would be the easier option,” Fenton went on as if he’d said nothing, “I will leave something out for you to use.”  
“You’re not taking off my jeans,” Taylor scorned, looking across to see him fiddling with what had been his bathroom earlier.  
“There’s nothing I haven’t already seen,” Fenton assured absently.  
 _Or touched recently,_ Taylor couldn’t help but think.  
“That doesn’t matter,” he said aloud, “I think you’ve already violated enough of my rights in the last twenty-four hours.”  
Fenton suddenly locked eyes with him and it made Taylor freeze. He didn’t look him in the eye often, and it was usually only if he had something very important to say.  
It also reinforced what a vulnerable position Taylor was in.  
When he finally broke it to continue what he was doing, Taylor gulped slightly.  
“It just doesn’t make sense,” he tried to reason, “like you said, I spent all day figuring out that I can’t leave. Putting me in cuffs isn’t going to change that. I might as well be free to at least… relieve myself in a normal way. Come on.”  
He bit his lip as he waited for a response. When Fenton simply readied the equipment before moving over to the head of the bed to remove the cloths, he held back another groan before Fenton came for him with one of them.  
“Wait, what are you doing?” he struggled to push himself back before grunting as Fenton took hold of his shirt to stop him.  
With his hands cuffed he couldn’t even push Fenton back. The older man quickly wrapped the cloth through Taylor’s jaw and tied it at the back, Taylor groaning again when he realised what he was doing.  
He probably should have mentioned he’d spent half the day screaming too, and that had worked as well as wishing the chain from his leg.  
“Two days.”  
Taylor clenched his teeth over the cloth as Fenton gently took hold of his chin.   
“I promise two more days, you will be fed, and all will be revealed then.”  
Taylor closed his eyes as Fenton let him go, hearing him go back to his equipment. He knew he didn’t exactly have a choice but he wasn’t sure he could hold out for two whole days. His biggest hope at the moment was that someone would come to visit Fenton and he could somehow alert them that he was there.  
Fenton was quick to return to his side and push him over onto his back. By the time Taylor felt him going for his fly again Fenton had enough weight on him that he couldn’t move his arms.  
“ _Fenton, please! Come on!_ ” he cried through the gag, “ _don’t do this. It’s not worth it!_ ”  
With his feet tangled he could do nothing but wait as Fenton replaced the tubing, this time leaving his jeans down a little.   
“I will leave them there,” Fenton gave his thigh a pat, “you should be able to remove them yourself.”  
Taylor just groaned again in response. He tried to keep his eyes to the ceiling as he felt his face going red again, but as soon as Fenton moved his eyes followed him.  
The doctor made his way to the other side of the room and soon returned with a steel bucket. He set it down beside the bed where the sack the tubing led to lay before righting himself and looking down at Taylor again.  
Trying not to recoil again under his stare, Taylor waited for what he wanted.  
“I will take Wilhelmina now,” he said simply, making Taylor frown, “she will be fed and should sleep with no issue. I will also give her something for the pain as promised and I will provide a temporary splint until she can be cast.”  
“ _When?_ ” Taylor tried to ask.  
Fenton just shook his head, implying that he couldn’t understand the question.  
“Goodnight Taylor,” he gave him a nod before turning to fetch Willa from where she’d crawled onto the tarp.  
Taylor pushed himself up to watch as Fenton took her up into his arms and began up the stairs. At the top he paused to reach for the door, gave Taylor one last stare, then disappeared through. Almost as soon as the door closed the lights went off. Taylor was once again left in the dark with the televisions.  
After taking some time to comprehend what had happened with Fenton’s last visit, he shifted himself on the bed a few times to try and find the most comfortable position before CNN suddenly caught his attention.  
“ _Pop star Taylor Hanson was last seen taking his daughter to a doctor’s appointment at the family’s local surgery yesterday afternoon and hasn’t been seen since…_ ”  
He quickly sat up with his eyes on the screen. Pictures were being shown of the doctor surgery, of he and Willa together, and of his car.  
“ _Early suspicions that the pop star may have fled with his daughter are being disputed by family and friends, citing that four children were left behind and he was due to return to work soon after…_ "


	11. Chapter 11

It took Taylor a while to get at least somewhat comfortable on the bed, his arms already hurting from their forced position and having to lay on his stomach so he didn’t squash them. He was already both mentally and physically exhausted but he managed to keep himself awake as long as he could hear noises from upstairs… mostly Fenton in the kitchen preparing dinner and then settling Willa down for the night. When she went down easily enough considering the pain she was in Taylor knew he must have kept his promise to give her something for the pain.  
The news report Taylor had seen had specifically mentioned them last being seen at the doctors, and had clearly shown which surgery. So they had to know that Fenton had been the last to see them. Surely the police would soon work out that they were seen going in but not coming out and Fenton would soon get a knock on his door.  
Fenton had also mentioned that he was prepared for a police interview. Taylor had no idea what he meant by that, because if they came to the house he’d assuredly be making enough noise to make sure they were found.  
But for now he knew there was nothing he could do, and once he was sure Willa was out for the count he tried to get some sleep himself.

*

Taylor was startled awake at the light coming on. He had no idea how long he’d been asleep, but the way his eyes refused to open told him it had been a while.  
Shaking his head with a groan to try and wake himself up, he pushed himself up with his knee so he could look up to where Fenton stood at the top of the stairs. When his eyes finally focused he could see the man just simply staring at him, not moving.  
It took until he could clear the sleep from his eyes before Fenton simply turned back into the house. Worried already that he was going for Willa, Taylor was surprised when the door simply closed again and the lights turned off.  
With a groan he fell down onto his stomach again, wanting desperately to get back to sleep but forcing himself to listen for what was going on. He wasn’t sure if it were a good or bad thing but it was almost straight away that he heard Fenton’s car leave.  
Taking the time to make sure he couldn’t hear anything else from the house, he soon fell straight back to sleep.

*

Able to keep track of the time via CNN, when 5:30pm came around and Taylor heard the car in the driveway he knew it would be Fenton returning for the night.   
He’d made no further headway than he had the day before, with the added trouble of the cuffs which he certainly couldn’t get off. He managed to do what he had to as far as his bathroom options went but now with his hands behind him he couldn’t even reach the cabinets. The farthest he found he could stretch was to sit on the nearby chair.  
The cloth gag in his mouth had almost dried out but instead become like thick glue with his saliva through his dehydration. He’d tried a few times to at least get it out of his mouth, but he had nothing to hook it with besides possibly the toes on his left foot and that risked the tubing coming loose and making a mess everywhere.  
Knowing he wouldn’t get rid of the chain he wasn’t fond of the idea of spending all day sitting in it.  
After two days learning to drown out the noise from the television, Taylor was able to hear Fenton’s footsteps overhead as he went about his business. He couldn’t hear if Willa was with him, but he was once again praying that she wasn’t. It didn’t take too long for the lights to suddenly come on, and Taylor had to cringe before his eyes adjusted as the door above him opened.  
Fenton stepped through alone, once again looking down on where Taylor sat on the edge of the bed. Willa not being with him made Taylor’s heart flutter with hope.  
“ _Where’s Willa?_ ” he tried to ask.  
Fenton just stood in silence yet again. Taylor stared up at him, trying to incite a response, before Fenton began to make his way down the stairs.  
Taylor gave himself a push back onto the bed, not sure what Fenton was here to do. When the doctor went straight for the pail and bent to fetch it, Taylor realised he was simply here to empty both bathrooms out.  
“ _Where is she?_ ” he tried again, “ _talk to me!_ ”  
“Calm down,” Fenton dismissed him, taking both the bag and pail and heading for the stairs again.  
“ _Fenton please! Let me see her!_ ”  
But he disappeared through the door without another word. Taylor could hear water running as he presumably cleaned out the pail, and a few more minutes went by with him bustling around upstairs before he returned with it (along with a replacement bag).  
Taylor didn’t bother moving as Fenton replaced them both, his mind ticking over trying to think of a way to either get him to take off the gag or to just tell him where Willa was. Still feeling exhausted from two days of barely being able to move wasn’t helping keep his mind alert. He could think of nothing.  
When Fenton was done he stepped aside and took one of the spare pieces of cloth from where they’d been hanging over the bottom of the stair rail. When he returned to the side of the bed and beckoned Taylor to him, Taylor realised he might not have to convince him after all.  
Taylor quickly shifted over and let Fenton remove the gag, ducking his head aside as he tried to replace it.  
“Fenton please, where’s Willa?!” he asked quickly.  
“She’s upstairs,” he replied calmly, reaching over again.  
Taylor fell down onto his side in his effort to dodge, quickly trying to push himself up with his hands again as Fenton got closer.  
“Can I see her? Please?” he begged as Fenton took hold of his shirt.  
“You will,” Fenton assured, pulling him upright again.  
“When can she go home?” Taylor quickly asked before Fenton could replace the gag.  
“Tomorrow at the earliest,” Fenton responded, “but most likely the following day. As soon as your test results come back.”  
“ _What test results?!_ ” Taylor’s brow furrowed, making Fenton shake his head.  
He took the day’s gag from where he’d left it on the side of the bed and made his way back to the stairs. Taylor held himself back from yelling after him, knowing it could change his mind about letting him see his daughter.   
As Fenton left the door open when he went through, Taylor’s attention was caught by the television once again.  
“ _Now on their second day, fears for the wellbeing of Hanson and his daughter are being heard. Fans of the band have sent their support to the family along with disbelief that Hanson had anything malicious in mind…_ ”  
“ _What the?_ ” Taylor scowled, “ _I’m here dammit! I haven’t gone anywhere!_ ”  
“ _I’m sorry, patient confidentiality prevents me…_ ” Taylor froze as Fenton came onscreen.


	12. Chapter 12

“ _Patient confidentiality prevents me from speaking with you,_ ” Fenton had said.  
“ _Asshole_ ,” Taylor grunted.  
The reporter went on with asking anyone who might have information as to their whereabouts to call in, but Taylor’s attention went to the door when he heard Fenton’s footsteps returning.  
He paused at the top of the stairs, Willa once again on his hip, when he saw what was on the news.  
Taylor’s eyes darted between them, wondering what he was going to do. Fenton simply waited for the story to pass before making his way down the stairs.  
“ _Un-cuff me_ ,” Taylor tried to insist when he made it to the bottom and brought Willa to the bed.  
Fenton placed her down beside her father, Taylor seeing for the first time the splint he’d made for her hand. She instantly crawled toward him, holding her hand out for comfort.  
“ _Fenton?_ ” Taylor’s brow furrowed, unable to reach for her in return.  
Fenton stepped close enough to reach for the gag, giving it a tug and pulling it down to Taylor’s throat.  
“Fenton,” he tried again when he could talk, “please, un-cuff me. I need to hold her.”  
“I told you that you could see her,” Fenton replied as he turned away, “I said nothing about holding her.”  
Taylor looked incredulous before Willa caught his attention again. He quickly opted to shift back as far as the chain would let him and lay down onto his side so that he could somewhat curl himself around her.  
“Hey, hey Willa…” he began gently, “Daddy’s here.”  
He kept one eye on Fenton as he made his way to the centre of the room and stood to watch the screens. His focus was mainly on the one Taylor couldn’t see – the old set, which as far as Taylor could tell wasn’t playing any audio.  
He kept still as his daughter opted to play with his hair, glad that just being with her seemed to comfort her enough for now. Her hand was swollen and a little bruised, but didn’t look too bad considering the injury. The splint Fenton had provided prevented her curling her fingers so Taylor hoped the bones were truly set close enough to heal.  
“That’s enough,” Fenton suddenly announced, losing interest in the television and making his way back over to them.  
“What? No!” Taylor scowled, trying to sit himself up again, “Fenton please! She needs her father, she’s in pain!”  
“She’s not in pain,” Fenton assured, stooping to collect her.  
Taylor quickly planted a kiss on his daughter’s temple before Fenton could take her from the bed. She immediately began reaching out for him again.  
“You’ll take her home tomorrow, right?” he asked hopefully, ducking to the side as Fenton attempted to reach out and replace the gag one-handed.  
“We’ll see,” Fenton wasn’t going to promise anything.  
He quickly grabbed the cloth – slightly choking his prisoner for a moment – before replacing it in his mouth. Taylor shook his head as he let him go to try and loosen it but it didn’t work.  
“I’ll check on you again,” Fenton promised before taking Willa to the stairs and starting upward.  
Taylor kept his eyes on them until they disappeared from sight, the door closing behind them and the lights turning off again.  
The slither of light he sometimes saw from the other side of the room was gone, so he knew that daylight was either fading or gone as well. CNN told him it was late so he pulled himself back onto the bed to lay down again.  
He tried to ignore the turmoil in his gut as it struggled with nothing to digest and simply closed his eyes. He had no choice but to trust that the doctor knew what he was doing, and that hopefully he’d give him something to eat the next day.  
He absolutely hated that both he and Willa were already so dependent on this man. He already knew that if anything happened to Fenton that there was a very real risk that he could die down there and never be found.  
Trying to keep the thoughts from his mind was hard but exhaustion once again took over and he soon fitfully slept.

*

Taylor awoke multiple times throughout the night and following morning, but he didn’t hear when Fenton left for work. Many times he had to use the bathroom without much success as he felt the full effects of his body starting to deteriorate.  
He wasn’t at all sure what time it was when he awoke to find that the light was already on. Feeling the panic in his chest, he shifted himself on the bed so that he could look up at the stairs. Fenton was already halfway down them.  
The man simply made his way over to empty the bathrooms again. Taylor tried to ask where Willa was again, but his throat was so dry at this point that it failed him this time. Instead it came out as a moan as Fenton disappeared upstairs again.  
Now well and truly awake he opted to focus on CNN to try and figure out the time. He knew it was Friday and that Fenton didn’t work on the weekends, so he was already worried about the doctor’s plans despite being warned today would be a big day.   
When Fenton returned with the pail and bag, Taylor realised there was something in the clean pail. It wasn’t until Fenton got closer that he realised it was a bottle of water. Not realising until now that he’d barely moved he suddenly tried to sit himself up – without much success.  
Fenton replaced both bathrooms before stepping over to the edge of the bed. He saw what Taylor was trying to do and used his free hand to pull Taylor up by the shoulder.  
“Drink slowly,” he instructed as he unscrewed the cap.  
Taylor just nodded, waiting for him to remove the gag. He did so before quickly placing the bottle to Taylor’s lips, and though it was hard Taylor barely even cared as he finally got the water he’d been waiting almost three days for.   
He kept his eyes closed so that he wouldn’t have to look into Fenton’s face as he concentrated. Fenton soon pulled away, and Taylor had to catch his breath.  
“I did say slowly,” Fenton almost grunted.  
“Where’s Willa?” was the first thing Taylor asked, opening his eyes only to see where the water was.  
He’d barely taken in a third of the bottle.  
“She’s upstairs,” Fenton replied, judging Taylor’s breathing.  
“Upstairs?” Taylor’s eyebrows rose, “you said you’d take her home today!”  
“I said today at the earliest,” Fenton corrected, “and I plan to do it tonight. Your test results all came back negative.”  
Taylor’s eyes darted up to his.  
“What does that mean?” he asked worriedly, still not knowing what tests Fenton had done.  
“It means you’re perfectly healthy,” Fenton assured, “aside from your current state of course.”


	13. Chapter 13

Fenton soon revealed a medium sized packet of plain biscuits. Taylor eyed them off, realising it was probably his dinner.  
“We need to start slow, and get you back to a semi-normal eating pattern,” he said absently as he opened them.  
“If Willa’s going home today…” Taylor was afraid to ask, “how long are you planning to keep me here?”  
Fenton ignored him, placing the bag on the bed after taking out a single biscuit. He didn’t need to step any closer to put it in Taylor’s mouth. Taylor took it reluctantly hoping the cuffs would come off eventually.  
As he swallowed it down he turned his head before Fenton could feed him a second.  
“Can you at least give me an idea?” he was getting desperate, “why won’t you just talk to me?”  
“You need to eat,” Fenton insisted, “you want to get better, don’t you?”  
Taylor’s brow furrowed but he took the biscuit. While his mouth was full Fenton set the packet on the nearby chair before watching him with a sigh.  
“I think you’re ready,” he said suddenly.  
Taylor had to wait until he swallowed before he could ask, “ready for what?”  
Fenton just stared a moment longer before he made his way back to the stairs.  
“Ready for what?!” Taylor’s voice rose, feeling the panic rise slightly in his chest.  
As usual there was no reply. But when Fenton returned, he had Willa in his arms again.  
Taylor tried not to make a sound as he brought her down, hoping with everything he had that it was purely to say goodbye and that Fenton would keep his word and take her home.  
Fenton set her on the floor when he made it down, before once again pointedly putting the key to the chain on top of the television. Taylor watched curiously as he brought a second over to him, stepping to the side of the bed so that he could reach the cuffs behind Taylor’s back.  
As soon as his right wrist was free he brought his hands to the front to rub it gingerly. There was already a bracelet of red from his pulling on them all day.  
When he saw Fenton move he looked up just in time for the doctor to reach over and secure the cuff again.  
“What are you doing?” Taylor asked softly, hoping to get an answer this time.  
“Lay down,” Fenton instructed, before skirting Willa as he walked over to the opposite wall.  
Taylor didn’t move – keeping his eye on the man – until he returned. At Fenton’s encouragement he shifted back onto the bed and lay down on his side.  
Fenton had returned with chains. Watching like a hawk but not wanting to risk Willa, Taylor grudgingly let Fenton loop it through the chain on the cuffs before he pulled it up to the bedhead.  
Falling forward from the pull on the cuffs, Taylor grunted as Fenton pulled his arms straight in order to lock the chain to the opposite corner. Having to readjust his body to suit, Taylor soon found himself on his stomach diagonally across the bed.  
Unable to stop him from doing it, Fenton leant over to replace and tighten the gag.  
“Now…” he began softly as he stepped back around the bed.  
Taylor could barely turn his head, and couldn’t see past the end. If he pulled back he could just see the tip of Willa’s red hair further over.  
“…I’d like you to stay very, very still,” Fenton said from behind him somewhere.  
Taylor’s head shot as far to the right as he could manage when he felt him going for the tubing, swiftly removing it.  
“If you stay still, I will take Willa home tonight. If not…”  
Taylor frowned as Fenton trailed off, not elaborating on the implied threat.  
He heard what sounded like more chains rattling before catching a quick glimpse of Fenton to his right. He couldn’t see what he was doing but he was already feeling his hairs stand on end.  
He jumped when Fenton took hold of the back of his shirt and raised it a little, placing a finger at the centre of his spine and gently trailing it down. The movement both caused a shiver and for Taylor’s mind to start going haywire.  
He suddenly began hoping that Fenton hadn’t failed becoming a fully practised surgeon and was about to take out his frustrations.  
Fenton’s hand paused at the base of Taylor’s spine for a moment before his other hand went for the back of Taylor’s belt. His brow furrowing with a grunt, Taylor squeezed his eyes shut as Fenton pulled down. He knew he’d probably already done this while Taylor had been drugged but knowing he’d already seen everything wasn’t exactly a comfort.  
In a delayed reaction Taylor tried to raise his right leg – the only appendage not restrained due to the plaster – before wincing as he felt Fenton’s knee against it to hold it back.  
“Still,” he heard Fenton whisper, somehow making his hairs stand up even further.  
With a slight gulp and trying not to drool onto the bed, Taylor did his best to comply as Fenton took his jeans down to his knees.  
He didn’t even realise the other man was on the bed until he took a firm hold of his hips. It was only at this stage that it dawned on Taylor what was happening.  
“ _NO!_ ” he suddenly screamed through the gag, the sound coming out clear as day regardless of the cloth.  
He fought the pull on his wrists but it was far too late. Fenton knew what he was doing.  
Taylor had no idea it would be so painful. As soon as he managed to get over the initial shock he tried to fight back with his free leg, but Fenton had wedged it underneath his own and Taylor was just simply too weak. All he could do was groan and bear it… and Fenton took his time.  
When it was finally over Taylor dug his face into the bedcovers as Fenton fell backward with an appreciative groan. Now with his leg freed Taylor tried to twist onto his side in an effort to relieve the throb but the pull on the cuffs made it hard. Eventually he managed to tuck his cast under his left leg and hold it there stagnant.  
Hearing Fenton move again he cautiously looked up. Fenton was replacing his pants before making his way toward where Willa had ventured over to the televisions. His face going red, Taylor realised with horror that he hadn’t kept still.  
“ _Please don’t hurt her!_ ” he cried through the gag, unsure if it came out clear or not.  
As his eyes teared he couldn’t make out more than a blur as Fenton stooped to collect the toddler. Fear kept his eyes on the blobs as Fenton quietly made his way back to the stairs and began up them again.  
Terrified that he was going to drop her Taylor kept his eyes on them until they disappeared. The door closed behind them and the light went off.  
He was once again left alone in the dark, this time unable to move anything but his right leg and without access to a bathroom.  
Trying desperately to focus on that point instead of what had just happened, Taylor closed his eyes and grit his teeth.  
He couldn’t ignore it. The pain kept the rape fresh in his memory.


	14. Chapter 14

Judging by CNN, it was another three hours before the door at the top of the stairs opened again. In the meantime Taylor had heard Fenton’s car both leave and come back, shortly after he’d left and before his return to the basement.  
When Taylor looked up and saw that he didn’t have Willa with him he immediately diverted his eyes. He could feel his face going red as Fenton made his way down the stairs, and he actually began to feel physically sick when Fenton came toward him again.  
When he heard him going for what he now knew as his belt buckle he buried his face in the bedcovers and groaned. He pulled his free leg in again but it wasn’t long before Fenton had crawled onto the bed and parted his knees once again.  
The second time wasn’t as painful as the first but Taylor knew that the damage had already been done. Noticing that Fenton wasn’t as rough the second time around Taylor internally hoped the novelty was already wearing off.  
When Fenton was satisfied he sat back onto the bed for a moment to calm down. Taylor immediately moved his leg back to where it had been, but otherwise froze as he waited for Fenton’s next move.   
When the doctor finally moved he slid from the bed and redid his belt. Without a word he set aside the pail that was Taylor’s bathroom and made his way around the bed. Taylor didn’t need to look up to know where he was so he kept his face buried.  
With a bit of surprise he felt Fenton go for the chain. Unlocking it from the end of the bed he slid it through the handcuffs and let Taylor pull his arms back.  
As soon as his arms were somewhat freed Taylor pulled back and shifted to the other side of the bed. In his rush he almost fell over the side but managed to keep his balance with his free leg.  
“I’ll come back later with something more substantial to eat,” Fenton promised before departing.  
Taylor kept his eyes down until he was gone, not wanting to move an inch. As soon as the light went off again he pulled the gag away and pushed himself up further on the bed.  
When he realised there was a wet patch near the centre he grimaced and used his chained leg for balance so he could lower himself to the floor. As soon as he hit he regretted the move, having to yelp in pain but not having a way to shift without moving his legs first. He quickly managed to push himself along the floor to get closer to where the chain was anchored – allowing enough room to pull his leg down and let himself fall down onto his side.  
Taking deep breaths to try and keep himself calm, he reached over to push the empty pail further away. He knew he was going to have to use it soon but for now he just wanted to be off the bed and he didn’t like his chances of making it to the chair.  
He cringed as he managed to pull both his underwear and jeans back up, but he didn’t bother redoing his belt. Instead he leant up to reach for one of the pillows and brought it back down to where he now lay.  
Hopefully he’d fall asleep and wake up to find it had never happened.  
Maybe he’d wake up at home or in the studio, like he’d been hoping to for the past few days.  
Knowing the wishes were fruitless didn’t stop him dreaming. He knew he was too weak to yell for help like he’d told himself to the moment he was free of a gag again. With Fenton still in the house it probably wouldn’t have done any good anyhow.  
With the television sending a constant drone of newsreader voice into the room, Taylor eventually passed out from the exhaustion.

*

Taylor didn’t awaken until the door opened again, and he had no idea how long it had been. Not sitting up from where he still lay on the floor beside the bed purely because he didn’t want to see Fenton, he listened for his footsteps descending the stairs instead.   
He heard the man pause at the foot of the stairs before coming over to the bed. Taylor quickly closed his eyes, hoping he could pretend he was still asleep. Feeling himself shiver he knew it would be hard to pull off.  
“Dinner,” he heard Fenton set a plate on the chair.  
His breathing heavying but still refusing to open his eyes, he almost yelped when Fenton suddenly took hold of the chain and pulled on it. Taylor scrambled up into a sit, pulling back on it just as hard.  
“Dinner,” Fenton repeated, and Taylor could hear the frown in his voice without looking up.  
His eyes shot to the chair and he blanched. A far cry from the biscuits he’d gotten earlier, it looked like Fenton had prepared a roast.  
He opened his mouth to say thank you but stopped himself. He knew the words wouldn’t have come out if he’d wanted them to. He wanted to ask where Willa was and hopefully find out the rest of Fenton’s game plan, but those words couldn’t find their way out either.  
“I’ll leave you,” Fenton relented after watching him for a time, “I’ll collect the plate in the morning. Goodnight.”  
Taylor gulped slightly as Fenton turned to leave, knowing he should have at least said _something_. This time when he left the light remained on and figuring he didn’t know how much grace he had with it Taylor gingerly moved himself over to the chair.  
The meal almost reminded him of something Natalie would give him and it made him pause. He knew he needed to eat it or he’d be risking some serious internal damage, but trying to imagine that it was a home meal in order to stomach it was already bringing tears to his eyes.  
He was just reaching for the supplied fork when CNN once again caught his eye.  
“ _And in breaking news tonight, this just in… an anonymous tipoff has led police to a church in Northern Tulsa where officers have discovered a toddler left inside the broken front doors…_ ”  
Taylor frowned as he set the fork down again, shooting a glance up the stairs as he inched himself closer to the television.  
“ _Preliminary reports suggest the toddler may be Wilhelmina Hanson, youngest daughter of Taylor Hanson, who were both reported as missing earlier in the week…_ ”  
“Oh God,” Taylor covered his mouth with his hand, his eyes welling up again.  
“ _Are we crossing live?_ ” the reporter asked someone off camera before the screen changed to a darkened scene with the church in the background.  
There were police everywhere and the church had been taped off. A reporter stood ready to give the story, complete with raincoat as it pelted down where she was.  
“ _Family have confirmed the toddler as Wilhelmina – or Willa – Hanson,_ ” she confirmed, “ _Willa was found safe and sound after a 911 tip from an unknown male led police to the church just an hour or so ago. The toddler has already been taken to hospital with suspected minor injuries and she already has her family by her side._ ”  
“ _Any word on her father?_ ”  
“ _There has been no sign of Taylor Hanson himself I’m afraid, though the police are definitely looking into foul play now…_ ”  
Taylor didn’t know whether to cry with relief or anger. But he knew one thing for certain.  
Willa was safe. All bets were off.


	15. Chapter 15

The light hadn’t gone off for a couple of hours, and Taylor had well and truly finished his meal in that time (and almost thrown it back up but somehow managed to hold it down).  
He’d also had plenty of time to try and inspect himself after what Fenton had done. He’d found spots of blood in his check, but not as much as he’d expected to. It was little comfort, and another reminder.  
He’d forced himself to stay awake a while longer than the light stayed on, just in case there was another mention of Willa on CNN. The story was covered once more with little additions before he finally gave in and slept in a vague attempt to calm his stomach.  
He was awake again sometime before 6am, finding he couldn’t sleep any longer. He still felt sick from eating so much the night before but hoped just laying on the floor all day while Fenton went to work would help keep it settled.  
It was 7am before he heard movement from above, and the light came back on soon after. He heard a heavy bolt on the door unlock before Fenton appeared, and immediately found he still couldn’t look at the man.  
He pushed himself back against the wall – keeping his eyes down – as Fenton came down to retrieve both the plate and pail. Not a word was spoken before he disappeared up into the house again.  
Taylor looked up at the door, for the first time trying to see through it. He could see cream coloured walls with a floral pattern and what looked like some kind of wall unit, but that was all his current position allowed.  
Fenton soon returned with another pail and he quickly diverted his eyes again. With the chain stretched as far as it could he had nowhere to go and could only wait.  
After Fenton set the pail down Taylor heard something else hit the chair. Catching his curiosity he looked up for what it was.  
“Breakfast,” Fenton indicated, stepping back a little after relinquishing it.  
Taylor gave him a confused look, not making eye contact but evidently getting his point across.  
“Like I said, we need to get you back to eating somewhat normal,” Fenton offered, “I can’t offer you lunch because I’ll be at work but as you know I have Sundays and Mondays off. So tomorrow…”  
“Is this it?” Taylor finally found his voice, small though it was.  
Fenton paused, as if registering that he’d spoken.  
“What do you mean?” he looked down at the breakfast plate, “I need to start you on something small and bland…”  
“No,” Taylor corrected, diverting his eyes around the room, “I mean… this.”  
He didn’t feel able to raise his hands to indicate the room, but hoped he was getting his point across.  
“Is this all that you want from me?”  
Fenton paused again, and Taylor wondered if he was pushing him already.  
“For now,” he seemingly confirmed, sounding unsure of the question, “I admit I’m surprised it means so little to you…”  
“That’s not what I-“ Taylor cut himself off, his mind racing, “I didn’t mean it like that.”  
He took a second to pull himself back together.  
“How many people have you had down here?” he asked, eyes darting across the floor.  
“Only you,” Fenton again sounded confused.  
Taylor looked up at the bed, his eyes falling on the stain. At least that meant he was an amateur as far as abduction went. But it also meant…  
“So that’s all for me?” he indicated the far wall with his chin.  
“Maybe,” Fenton was sounding more confident suddenly, “perhaps, eventually.”  
Taylor turned his head away with a slight gulp. He’d just confirmed that this was indeed Hell.  
“You need to eat,” Fenton insisted, “I’ll be in to see you when I get back from the surgery. We can talk then.”  
Taylor’s face flushed red again as Fenton made to leave the basement. The last thing he wanted to do was have a heart-to-heart with his rapist.   
But if it was something he was going to be forced to do, he needed to get the man onside.  
“Thank you,” he managed to spit out, making Fenton pause halfway up the stairs.  
He grimaced a little before forcing himself to make eye contact.  
“For taking Willa home,” he amended, quickly dropping his eyes again.  
“I promised you that I would,” Fenton pointed out, before continuing upward.  
Taylor waited until the door was closed, looking toward his breakfast when he realised the light was being left on again.  
“You also promised not to hurt her,” he said under his breath as he eyed it off.  
It looked like scrambled eggs on a single piece of toast. He really didn’t feel like eating anything after the influx of food the night before, but figured he had the entire work day to get it down if needed.  
As if on cue he heard Fenton’s car starting up before he could move. Realising he was leaving the light on for the entire day this time, Taylor’s brain immediately went to work.  
He shuffled himself over to the chair to inspect the cutlery he’d been given. The knife was nothing more than a serrated butter knife, and without a point he knew it’d be useless.  
The fork looked so frail that he was sure it would break if he tried to use it on anything.  
With a groan he ran his fingers through his hair and sat back to think. He needed to somehow convince Fenton to either release him from the chain, or to give him a longer one at the very least.   
Long enough to reach the cabinets and find out what was in them.  
But that involved waiting for Fenton’s return, and while he had access to light he didn’t want to waste it. He felt his adrenaline working its way up and willingly getting ready to force his body to act, but his mind was failing him in coming up with any viable plans.  
He hadn’t had the time or light to do it earlier, so he took some time to inspect the handcuffs he was still wearing. He knew that some types had a kind of emergency release but on these he couldn’t see anything other than the key lock.  
Grunting in frustration but trying to keep himself distracted, he used the bed to pull himself to his feet. He still couldn’t put any weight on the cast, but it had only been three or four days since the break. It was going to take weeks before he could even attempt to run.  
He couldn’t handle weeks in a basement dungeon. Knowing that his family was out there desperately searching for him – probably even more worried now that Willa had turned up with a broken finger.  
He was pulled from his thoughts by the morning newscast on CNN reporting the story from the night before. This time as well as scenes from the night before they had footage from a reporter trying to get an interview with either Zac or Natalie as his brother led his wife into the local police station.  
Taylor took a seat on the end of the bed to watch. They reported nothing new, but promised to follow the story as new information came throughout the day.  
“Come on guys,” Taylor felt a lump forming in his throat as he pleaded to the open room, “you must know what happened by now.”  
He lifted his left foot onto the bed and absently scratched under the chain as he watched.


	16. Chapter 16

When Fenton returned Taylor knew it must already be dark out. The sliver of light from the opposite wall had well and truly disappeared, and the newscast had already ended its 6pm bulletin.  
He’d barely moved from the end of the bed, except to eat his breakfast sometime around lunch. He’d earlier thrown up some of his dinner from the night before but his stomach had at least wanted more food in its place.  
He didn’t look up as Fenton made his way down, but he frowned when he realised he could smell something…  
“Dinner,” Fenton announced when he made it to the floor, Taylor looking as high as his waist to see what he had in his hands.  
His instincts told him to back off as far as the chain would let him, but he knew it was pointless and so forced himself to stay. His fingers fidgeted in his lap as he eyed off the containers of Chinese food Fenton was bringing toward him.  
“You ate your breakfast… good,” Fenton nodded to himself, going over to the chair and lifting the plate.  
He set the containers down in its place before turning to take the plate back up the stairs. Taylor waited until he was out of sight before he pulled himself onto his good foot and – leaning on the chair for support – hopped over to it. He opened one of the containers with one hand while using the other for balance. Inside was some sort of noodle-infused dish.  
“Take whichever you want,” he jumped at the sound of Fenton’s voice, “I’ll take the other.”  
Taylor gulped slightly, trying to be quick as Fenton came back down. He opened the other container to see that it was practically the same thing before grabbing one and taking it back to the bed.  
As Fenton made his way to the chair Taylor pushed himself further back so that his feet were no longer on the floor. Crossing his legs he set the container inside them as he tried to get comfortable.  
Fenton took the second container from the chair and took a seat. Taylor paused when he realised the man wasn’t going anywhere this time.  
“How was your day?” he asked amiably.  
Taylor immediately frowned, the question completely catching him off guard.   
He slowly closed the food container, diverting his eyes as he did. He was already feeling sick again.  
“You need to eat,” Fenton insisted, “you need to keep up your strength.”  
“Why?” Taylor’s voice came out quieter than he’d thought it would, “I’m not doing anything, I don’t need the energy.”  
“Saturday night is takeout night,” Fenton went on, making Taylor roll his eyes, “I like to treat myself knowing the weekend is finally upon me.”  
Taylor set the container aside and moved his left leg out a little, again scratching absently at where the chain sat. He could feel Fenton’s eyes on him and it was making his hairs stand on end.  
“You need to eat,” he repeated, a little sterner this time.  
“I’m not hungry,” Taylor lied, holding his ankle with his hand.  
“Regardless of whether you’re hungry, your body needs the sustenance,” Fenton assured, “it needs to recover from the lack of nutrition this week.”  
“So why haven’t you given me water?” Taylor frowned, eyes still down.  
“Do you want some water?”  
Taylor didn’t reply to that. He wasn’t sure if he did or not, it was purely the principle of it that bothered him.  
He flinched back a little when Fenton sighed and stood, leaving his food on the chair as he made his way back to the stairs. Taylor’s eyes followed his feet as he left the basement, soon followed by the sound of a refrigerator door opening and closing. Taylor ran his fingers through his hair as his mind raced for something to say to the man as he returned with a bottle of water and made his way down again.  
He threw it onto the bed at Taylor’s feet before taking up the chair again. Taylor reached out for it, figuring if he could stomach anything at all it should be water.  
“We’ll get you cleaned up tomorrow,” Fenton promised, making him pause again, “you must be feeling dirty.”  
 _Understatement_ , Taylor thought. Though he wondered how Fenton would go about it.  
He knew as soon as the chain came clear of his ankle he was going to fight for all he was worth. If he had to crawl out of the house on his hands and knees, he would.  
His mind failing him with the questions he’d wanted to ask earlier in the day, he sat in silence as Fenton continued to eat. When the man was done he stood from the chair.  
“You need to eat,” he repeated, this time almost sounding angry.  
“I will,” Taylor insisted, “just not now.”  
“Why not?” Fenton demanded.  
“Just give me time,” Taylor frowned, setting the bottle of water aside.  
While his head was turned Fenton suddenly grabbed the chain to his ankle. Taylor immediately grappled for the edge of the bed, his hand only catching the bedspread and pulling it back with him.  
“Leave me alone!” he yelped as Fenton pulled the leg toward himself.  
Unable to find the strength to pull back effectively, Taylor instinctively grabbed the water bottle again and ditched it at Fenton. The bottle hit him in the shoulder and – more from the shock than any pain, Taylor guessed – made him drop the chain.  
Taylor scrambled over to the left so he could put his foot down the side, making the chain hard to get to from the foot of the bed where Fenton stood.  
“Don’t be scared,” Fenton held up a hand to try and pacify him.  
“Why not?” Taylor demanded, now not afraid to look him in the eye, “are you going to attack me again?”  
“Attack?” Fenton frowned.  
“Don’t make me say it,” Taylor shook his head, his face already going red.  
He automatically pulled back on the chain as Fenton stepped aside and began to make his way closer. Obviously not going anywhere, he put his hands on the cast and planted his foot firm.  
“Taylor…” he began when he got to his side, the very tone of his voice sending a shiver down Taylor’s spine, “what you and I shared was something special.”  
Taylor ducked away as Fenton reached up to his head. He was tall enough in comparison to Fenton that when he fell down onto his side the older man couldn’t reach it. Instead, Fenton rested his hand on his thigh which made Taylor groan.  
“If it was so special, why don’t we leave it at that?” he suggested.  
“What do you mean?” Fenton frowned.  
“Make it a one-time thing,” Taylor tried not to freak out, “and I swear, if you let me go I won’t tell anyone. It can stay between us.”  
“I don’t believe you.”  
Taylor looked up, the tonal change catching him by surprise. Before he could react further Fenton had launched himself on top of him.


	17. Chapter 17

“Get off me!” Taylor cried out, having taken the brunt of Fenton’s weight and been pushed down onto his stomach.  
The position took his hands out of action but as Fenton put his weight behind his right arm to hold Taylor’s shoulder blades down, he struggled to push his arms to the left so he could elbow Fenton in the side. Before he could get in a hit he felt Fenton’s knee already in the back of his.  
“No!” he grunted, trying to lever himself up.  
“Calm down,” Fenton said softly.  
He was again far too weak, and Fenton was not a skinny man. Feeling his left hand go for the back of Taylor’s belt again, Taylor felt a small burst of adrenaline and finally managed to bring his elbow up.  
Fenton let out a small exclamation and backed off. When Taylor managed to pull himself forward and turn onto his back, he saw he’d managed to hit him in the jaw.  
When Fenton’s eyes met his, he froze.  
Fenton stared him down for a moment as he held his face, before letting his hand fall to his side.   
“I don’t want to hurt you, Taylor,” he insisted.  
“Bullshit,” Taylor spat back, “if you didn’t you wouldn’t have taken me!”  
“I just wanted…” Fenton was having trouble with wording, and again reached out to put a hand on Taylor’s leg, “…to feel you.”  
Taylor’s brow furrowed as he struggled to pull his right leg back, managing to cross himself over the bed on a diagonal before sitting up properly out of reach. Fenton almost looked sad at the movement, which again made Taylor start to question the doctor’s sanity.  
“Just leave me alone,” Taylor pleaded again, hoping he would actually listen this time.  
Fenton stared him down again before a somewhat rejected look crossed his face. Without another word, he walked over to the chair and collected what was left of his dinner and headed for the stairs. Taylor watched as he held his face a couple of times, not bothering to look back at him before closing the basement door behind him.  
Once Taylor heard the door being locked, he groaned and fell down onto his back and covered his face with his hands. He really didn’t think he could handle this for much longer.  
His stomach starting to growl gave him a welcome distraction and he soon pulled himself up again. He reached over for where the food container had fallen onto its side on the bed, thankfully not spilling much liquid. Finding the fork nearby he sat himself up and quickly began to dig in.  
He’d planned to save himself some for later on in case he was hungry again, but found he couldn’t stop until the container was empty. He didn’t even really like the taste, but at least his appetite was back. Somewhat.  
He shifted himself forward to set the container back on the chair before looking for where the bottle of water had fallen. Ending up having to kneel on the floor to fetch it from under the bed, he only took a mouthful before setting that aside as well. That, he could save.  
With a dejected sigh he sat himself back on the end of the bed where he’d been sitting watching CNN for most of the day already. Nothing else had been said about Willa, regardless of the reporter’s promise that morning.  
He hadn’t been watching for very long when he heard the door above him opening again. Surprised that Fenton would return at all that night, he felt his face going red as he watched him come through the door.  
When he saw the small silver case in his hands, he suddenly backed off onto the bed again.  
“What are you doing?” he tried to ask, knowing from Fenton’s track record that he probably wouldn’t get an answer.  
Fenton simply returned to the chair, moving the food container aside so he could place the case down. When he opened it and readied another syringe, Taylor automatically started shaking his head.  
“No,” he said determinedly, “ _no_!”  
“You need to calm down,” Fenton insisted – seemingly very calm himself as he tested it.  
“No!” Taylor scorned, “what exactly is calming about my situation here?!”  
He jumped a little as Fenton turned back to him, and tried to pull himself further back on the bed as the older man advanced. Fenton simply took hold of the chain and pulled.  
Taylor fell sideways at the jolt and quickly reached forward to try and pull it back. Fenton bringing the syringe closer as if to get him on the arm made him flinch back again, and the doctor easily looped the chain around his wrist before putting the needle to Taylor’s ankle.  
“Stay still,” he warned, “I don’t want to damage the vein.”  
Taylor was having enough trouble focusing, but he wasn’t strong enough to move the foot when Fenton had hold of it anyhow. When he was done Taylor pulled it back into himself and held his hand over the wound with a grimace.  
“You really want it that badly?” he demanded as Fenton packed the needle away, “that you’d _drug_ me?”  
“You’re not leaving me a lot of choice,” Fenton responded as he closed the case and lifted it.  
He turned back and looked down on his captive.  
“You’re aware that you are… larger in size than I am. And even though you know that if anything were to happen to me you would never be found nor indeed would you ever reach the key… you insist on putting up a fight.”  
Taylor’s eyes darted to where Fenton had left the key on top of the television. It hadn’t moved since the second time he’d put it there.  
“Put yourself in my position,” Taylor had trouble keeping his voice steady, “wouldn’t you?”  
Fenton gave him a curious look, and Taylor knew it was because his eyes were drooping already.  
“Come on Fenton,” he shook his head, “you _know_ me, and you know my family. Why would you put them through this?”  
Fenton hesitated, before setting the case down on the floor. He shifted the container from the chair and took a seat with a sigh. Taylor started blinking as his eyelids got heavier, desperately trying to stay awake.  
“Taylor… what’s my first name?” he asked curiously.  
“James,” he replied straight away, confused at the question.  
“Hmm…” Fenton nodded to himself, “I guess you would know. Do you realise that most people I see – even on a regular basis – don’t even know my first name?”  
“What does that have to do with me?” Taylor shook his head, his shoulders drooping.  
“My point is that you know next to nothing about me,” Fenton pointed out, “in spite of ‘knowing’ me for most of your life. And no one cares to know me any more than they need to.”  
Taylor frowned at that, feeling his eyes close. He forced them open again but had to lay down onto his side.  
“It’s also why they’ll never find you,” Fenton stood again.  
“Someone will,” Taylor insisted with raspy breath, “someone has to.”  
“Goodnight Taylor,” Fenton said softly, moments before he did finally pass out.


	18. Chapter 18

Restriction was the first thing Taylor felt when he awoke. On his face, around his wrists, and around his calves. Forcing himself not to panic he squeezed his eyes open, unable to even rub them with his wrists held above his head.  
The room was dark, aside from the light from the television.   
Trying to keep his breathing steady, he felt out what was on his wrists first. It felt as though the handcuffs had simply been chained to the bedhead again, this time on the other side so he was laying straight as opposed to diagonal.   
The gag he was wearing wasn’t the one he’d worn before, and he could tell it wasn’t the ball one Fenton had shown him either. There was something ball-shaped in his mouth but then something completely covered the outside.  
He couldn’t see his legs from where he lay but he could feel a leather strap just below his knees. The moment he moved his legs to test the pull his eyes widened.  
He wasn’t wearing his jeans. While it was already a dull throb, he could immediately tell why.  
When he let out a worried whine, he jumped as he felt movement on the bed. Suddenly realising that Fenton was right behind him he finally did start to panic for real.  
The chain around his ankle continued to hold him firm, the strap holding his legs together. With his wrists held above his head he couldn’t do more than twist his body.  
“What is it?” a groggy Fenton asked, sitting up on the bed.  
Taylor could only groan through the gag, and he wasn’t even sure if that got through. He felt Fenton take hold of his arm and awkwardly move him over onto his back. When he looked up all he could see was Fenton’s shadow, and it didn’t help him any.  
“Calm down,” Fenton insisted, “you need to breathe deeply.”  
Taylor did try, but he couldn’t concentrate. It was as if the entire situation had suddenly come crashing down on him and he felt like he was going to have a heart attack.  
Relenting, Fenton quickly undid the strapping on the gag. Taylor couldn’t hold still until it was finally off, and Fenton pulled it away from his face.  
He took a few deep breaths, groaning deep in his throat as he tried to calm himself down.  
“Breathe,” Fenton said calmly, putting a hand on Taylor’s chest to monitor his heart rate.  
Taylor groaned again at the touch, closing his eyes as he tried to pull himself together. He wasn’t going anywhere, and Fenton obviously wasn’t planning to release the chains. He had to handle it or Fenton would probably drug him again.  
It took a good five minutes or so before he could slow his breathing down. When Fenton decided he was calm enough, he made his way to the bottom of the stairs somewhere and turned the lights back on. Taylor cringed and closed his eyes again as the light hit, forcing them open again when Fenton returned to the bed.  
“Are you alright?” he asked, standing at the foot.  
“No,” Taylor scorned, the groan still in his voice.  
Fenton sighed and took a seat on the end of the bed. Taylor tried to move his feet away but if he moved any further left he was going to fall. He could already tell that would leave him hanging by the wrists.  
“Just keep calm,” Fenton insisted as he put a gentle hand on Taylor’s leg, “and keep still.”  
“What happened?” Taylor wasn’t sure he wanted to know, “and where… where’re my jeans? Can I have them back? Please?”  
“You won’t be needing them,” Fenton assured.  
“I think I will,” Taylor tried to insist, “please, _please_ …”  
“You won’t,” Fenton said firmer, “I will keep the temperature controlled.”  
“That’s not what I’m worried about,” Taylor’s brow furrowed.  
When Fenton gave him an odd look he closed his eyes again.  
“Please let me go,” he asked softly.  
“You attacked me,” Fenton pointed out, “twice. How can I be sure of my safety?”  
“Don’t fucking rape me,” it was half a plea.  
With the panic attack not yet out of his system he was having trouble keeping hold of his emotions. He groaned again as he felt Fenton climbing back onto the bed.  
“It’s late,” Fenton was obviously tired, “we need to get some sleep. We can talk in the morning.”  
When Taylor opened his eyes again he saw that Fenton had hold of the gag. Struggling again against the chains in minor panic, he couldn’t even push himself up.  
“Please, don’t put that on me,” he practically begged.  
Fenton paused, looking down at it in his hand.  
“I’ll…” Taylor took a moment to force himself to say it, “I’ll be quiet, I swear.”  
“All night?” he queried.  
“Yes,” Taylor promised, “I mean… I’ll try. I will.”  
Fenton paused a while longer before pushing himself from the bed again. He went to set the gag on the chair before going to turn the light off.  
“Why are you here?” Taylor asked warily as Fenton lay back on the bed, “you haven’t… spent the night before.”  
“It’s the weekend,” Fenton replied simply, “get some sleep, we’ll talk in the morning.”  
Taylor kept an eye on his form as the man settled down beside him. He wasn’t as close as he had been when Taylor had woken up, but he was still much too close for comfort.  
Especially now that he didn’t have jeans.  
When he realised Fenton had quickly fallen asleep again he tried pulling on his wrists. It was hard to do without disturbing the sleeping form next to him, especially when the chains clinked with every movement. If he’d been just a little taller he might have been able to reach the padlock holding the chain to the head of the bed.  
Not that it would have done him any good without the key.   
As Fenton’s breathing slowly got heavier he cast his eyes to CNN. There was no way he was going to get any more sleep so he decided he may as well pay attention and see if anything else was said about Willa. The volume was down a little – maybe it bothered Fenton to have it so loud – but with the room’s echo he could still hear every word.  
He couldn’t see the clock from his position, and they didn’t mention the time. He took a guess at the early hours of the morning which meant the sedative had to have knocked him out for a good five or six hours.   
An hour or so went by when he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Fenton was well and truly in a deep sleep, which almost let him feel safe. Almost. There was still the fear that he could wake up at any moment (or indeed movement) and decide he wanted some midnight action.  
Taylor bit his lip as he tried to concentrate on clearing his mind. If he didn’t sleep when Fenton did he wasn’t sure he was going to last through whatever the next day was going to bring him. He needed every ounce of energy he could save in case an opportunity to escape came up, and he knew that he was going to have to fight hard for it.


	19. Chapter 19

The moment Fenton moved Taylor’s eyes sprang open again. When he tried to move himself he felt a sharp pain attack his right shoulder and shoot down his arm. Letting out a surprised cry at the pain made Fenton pause as he sat up on the bed.  
“What is it now?” he asked, registering that it was in pain rather than anguish.  
“My shoulder,” Taylor admitted, hoping it would buy some lenience.  
Fenton hesitated slightly before reaching a hand out to Taylor’s right shoulder. Taylor groaned at the touch, more concerned with the pain for now.  
“It’s stiff,” Fenton said simply before removing himself from the bed.  
Taylor clenched his teeth, holding back a scornful retort. He kept Fenton in his peripheral as the man made his way around the bed. He made his way straight to where the chain was anchored and quickly unlocked it.  
With a groan Taylor brought his hands down onto his chest, trying to roll his shoulder. His hands were red from the lack of blood flow but at least they didn’t hurt.  
“I’ll see to breakfast while you recover,” Fenton gave him a nod before heading for the stairs.  
Taylor watched him go, not having seen what he’d done with the key he’d had. Knowing the key to his ankle chain was still sitting on the television – in plain sight even – he knew it wouldn’t have helped. But he certainly wondered.  
Once Fenton had disappeared from sight he pulled himself up onto his side. Around his calves sat a leather strap about two inches wide and simply buckled. He imagined it had been there purely in case Taylor had woken the night before while Fenton had been ‘having fun’ and tried to fight back.  
Trying not to make a sound as he did so, he sat up further and reached down for it. He soon had it off and set it aside on the bed.  
He was once again held down only by the ankle chain and handcuffs.  
He cast his attention to CNN as he waited for Fenton to return, knowing the man wouldn’t be long. There was nothing else on Willa in the time he had to watch.  
Fenton descended the stairs with two plates this time, Taylor watching as he sat one on the end of the bed before taking the other to the chair for himself. Taylor was starving but he was still uncomfortable eating in front of Fenton. He stared at the plate, internally debating whether to take it or not.  
“Eat,” Fenton caught his attention, “we have a long day ahead.”  
“Why?” Taylor asked, otherwise not moving.  
Fenton looked across to the centre of the room, as if not sure how to say what he wanted to. Taylor was already starting to recognise the expression that meant he wouldn’t really be told.  
“Can I have my jeans back?” he asked when he realised he wasn’t getting an answer.  
It had taken him a moment to work out that Fenton had to have removed the ankle chain to get them off. Which meant he’d have to do it again to return them.  
“No,” was Fenton’s determined reply.  
“Then I won’t eat,” Taylor decided, setting his hands in his lap and avoiding eye contact.  
He knew it was going to be hard but he just didn’t see another way. A hunger strike was the only leverage he could come up with.  
“Are you trying to blackmail me, Taylor?”  
Taylor couldn’t help but gulp slightly as he turned his head away.   
“I have no reason to do as you ask,” he pointed out, “you can keep me prisoner as long as you want but you can’t force me to eat anything.”  
“You don’t need your jeans,” Fenton was holding back aggravation, “what you need is to be washed.”  
Taylor blanched at his terminology, before his eyes darted to the stairs. He suddenly realised Fenton wasn’t going to offer him a shower or a bath and grimaced internally.  
“Don’t you think you’d feed better?” Fenton suggested.  
“How?” Taylor knew he wasn’t going to like the answer.  
“I’ll bring down some pails of warm water,” Fenton explained, “and we can do it together.”  
Taylor covered his mouth with his hands, once again trying to hold himself together. He couldn’t decide if Fenton really was that perverted or if he was just treating him like an infant who couldn’t help himself. Neither option pacified him.  
He also hadn’t been able to work out if Fenton was clinically insane or not yet.  
“Now eat,” Fenton demanded, getting back to his own.  
“No,” Taylor almost choked on the word and kept his eyes down, wishing he could even just fold his arms, “I told you, you can’t force me.”  
He felt Fenton’s gaze burning into his crown and made sure to keep his gaze to the bedcovers. He didn’t need Fenton realising how unstable he was getting this soon.  
“Maybe I can’t,” Fenton relented, “but I’m sure that eventually, you will give in.”  
He stood with his now empty plate. Taylor didn’t move.  
“Even if it takes a couple of days.”  
He took Taylor’s plate with his other hand and set it on the floor by the wall. That done he took the chair with him to the bottom of the staircase, planting it just in front of the base before taking his plate upstairs.  
Once he was out of sight Taylor looked to the left to check where the plate was before frowning at where he’d moved the chair to. Taylor definitely couldn’t reach it where it was, and he couldn’t understand why he’d done it.  
When he heard a tap running upstairs he groaned. He had to come up with a way to convince Fenton to leave him alone to do it himself. He couldn’t deny that he needed it – he’d last showered sometime Tuesday morning and he’d certainly sweated a lot since then. The bed sheets stank of it even though he’d never gotten as far as under the covers.  
Fenton didn’t take long, returning with two of the chrome pails and a towel over his shoulder. He had some trouble getting them down the stairs and Taylor’s eyes locked to him the entire way.  
He set both pails on the tarp which the chair was now sitting on before disappearing to the right. Taylor heard the rattle of chains and felt the colour draining from his face. Fenton had gone to the rack. When he returned he held a large length of silver chain and he made straight for Taylor with it.  
“What are you doing?” Taylor’s eyes locked to it as he began to back off, knowing he wouldn’t get far with his ankle anchored.  
As usual Fenton didn’t reply, and when he appeared to go for his ankle Taylor reached forward to protect it before Fenton suddenly looped the chain through the handcuffs and quickly backed off. Taylor grunted when he realised he’d fallen for the ploy before trying to grab the edge of the bed as Fenton used the chain to pull him forward onto the ground.  
He hit hard and hissed through his teeth knowing his knee was going to bruise, before looking up in time to see Fenton loop the other end of the chain through a pulley. When Taylor’s eyes followed it to the ceiling he instantly began shaking his head.  
Before he could get a word out Fenton pulled the chain taut.


	20. Chapter 20

“Fenton please!” Taylor already felt the pull in his sore shoulder, “just let me do it myself! It doesn’t have to be this hard!”  
“Stand up,” Fenton had pulled the chain as tight as it could go while Taylor was still half on the floor.  
Taylor looked back at his ankle chain, knowing it wouldn’t give enough reach.  
“I can’t,” he insisted, hoping Fenton would realise it was for more than one reason.  
He groaned as Fenton pulled the chain even tighter, forcing Taylor to pull back on his wrists so the cuffs wouldn’t cut off circulation. When he was sure Taylor couldn’t move from his knee he returned to the rack and fetched another length of silver chain.   
Taylor eyed him as he made his way around him to the bed. He quickly looped the end of the chain around Taylor’s already-chained ankle before attaching the other end to the same anchor. He then made his way to the key sitting on the television and came back to unlock the original chain.  
Taylor grit his teeth realising now why his hands were out of the way.   
Once Fenton had the chain unlocked Taylor was able to fall backward a little and back himself up against the chair to soften the pull on his wrists. He knew that even just being by the bottom of the staircase was the furthest he’d been from the bed in six days and he tried to focus on that as opposed to what he knew was coming.  
Fenton threw the ankle chain aside, not bothering to release it from the bed, before walking past Taylor to return to the pulley.   
“Don’t-!” was all Taylor got out when he realised what Fenton was doing.  
But Fenton had already pulled on the chain and subsequently dragged Taylor further along the ground. He hit the chair with his hip before Fenton stopped, managing to rest on his right knee and push himself up with his left foot.  
“This isn’t enough?!” he frowned when he saw Fenton pull more.  
“Stand up,” Fenton instructed.  
Knowing he soon wouldn’t have a choice if Fenton continued pulling, he relented. It was hard but Taylor managed to use the chain to pull himself up onto his left foot. When Fenton indicated he realised the chair was there for him to balance his right knee on. Once he’d gotten his knee into place, Fenton suddenly pulled hard on the chain again and his arms were yanked above his head.   
“You don’t have to do it this way,” Taylor tried to insist, “let me at least help you! You don’t have to“  
Taylor cut himself off when he saw a pair of scissors appear in Fenton’s hand. He hadn’t seen where he’d gotten them from, but he made a mental note to watch where he returned them to.  
“Keep still,” Fenton said calmly, coming closer with one hand out as if to pacify him.  
“I’m not going anywhere,” Taylor frowned incredulously, eyeing off the scissors.  
As expected Fenton made quick work of Taylor’s shirt and pulled the remains from his shoulders to toss aside. Taylor tried to keep his breathing steady as he now stood in front of his rapist in only his underwear, but it was hard.  
When Fenton reached for that Taylor finally lost his cool. He had to hop on his left leg a little in order to bring his right knee up, but there was no way he was just going to let Fenton take it.  
“Don’t be silly,” Fenton scorned, “I can’t wash you while you’re wearing them.”  
“I am not losing everything,” Taylor put force into his voice.  
“No, you’re not,” Fenton assured.  
When he realised it was fruitless, he sighed and held up the scissors to make a point. He stepped aside and set them in place on the rack before returning to stand in front of Taylor again.  
“I won’t cut them,” he promised, “but we need them off.”  
Taylor grimaced, diverting his eyes.  
“Can’t you just let me take a shower like a normal person?” he almost pleaded, hardly believing he had to formally request it.  
“I can’t let you into the house,” Fenton seemed somewhat disappointed to admit.  
Taylor groaned, once again wondering how long Fenton planned to keep him here. If it was going to be at least another week, he knew he’d rather be clean. With Fenton having seen (and used) just about everything anyhow, Taylor cursed inside his head as he returned his knee to the chair and hopped backward a little.  
Fenton was gentle as he slowly pulled the underwear down, carefully stretching it over the cast before letting it fall to Taylor’s left foot. Once it hit the floor he encouraged Taylor to hop again before moving it further down the chain so that it was clear of the tarp.  
That done, Taylor went back to concentrating on his breathing as Fenton readied one of the water pails – which Taylor could see from this angle was already soapy.  
“I hope it’s not too cool already,” Fenton now seemed apologetic, only making Taylor frown further.  
When Fenton first placed the sponge against the right of Taylor’s chest – despite his jump at the initial touch - he was relieved that it didn’t seem too hot or cold.   
Fenton made sure he did a good job of Taylor’s upper body and arms (as far as he could reach) before working his way down. Taylor held onto the chain that was looped around the handcuffs the entire time, resisting the urge to close his eyes and pretend he was somewhere else. The soap Fenton had used was making his skin feel dry even though it was obviously wet, and it smelled highly of disinfectant. Fenton obviously wanted to be thorough.  
When he came down to Taylor’s pelvis he grit his teeth. He’d already had Fenton handle him while adjusting his ‘toilet’ but he already knew this was going to be different. Half expecting the man to utterly enjoy himself while he was there, he was somewhat surprised when it was treated like any other part of the body and quickly moved on from.  
By the time Fenton reached his feet Taylor was standing in a large puddle of very cold water. The forecast hadn’t been high to begin with, and Taylor was sure it was even colder in Fenton’s basement which hadn’t leant to the water keeping warm long enough. Realising this pretty quickly, Fenton took the pail of clean water back upstairs to replace it before coming back to wash the soapy water (or film that was left) from Taylor’s body in much the same fashion.  
Toward the end Taylor distracted himself by keeping his eyes to the television. The usual CNN drone carried on in the background, if a little quieter than usual, and he’d gotten used to the different anchors at different times of day already. At times he was already hoping he’d connected to them on some kind of upper level and could telepathically send them a message as to where he was…  
Fenton was quick to clean up with a mop in hand, fetched from a closet somewhere on the other side of the staircase. With his knee still on the chair Taylor couldn’t turn enough to see when Fenton disappeared behind him.   
Once Fenton had cleared the tarp of the water and set the pails aside, he stepped over to the pulley and released the chain for a couple of metres. Taylor instantly collapsed into the chair, glad to finally get the blood flowing into his arms again. Fenton said nothing as he stepped around him to take the pails upstairs, content to leave him sitting on the chair.  
While he was gone Taylor looked across at the rack. It was too far to reach with his hands, though his ankle may have just made the distance with the lengthened chain.  
With a dejected sigh he covered himself with his hands and leant back into the chair to wait.


	21. Chapter 21

It was shortly before Fenton returned that Taylor first thought to move the chair back a little. He slid it as far as he could to the right, soon finding he was able to see the second television screen for the first time. Having spent six days with it playing right beside CNN with no audio for him to guess what it was, the not knowing had just added to the whole situation driving him crazy.  
He froze when he first saw it, not entirely sure he wasn’t seeing things. But when he heard Fenton’s footsteps at the top of the stairs he quickly snapped out of it and sat forward on the seat again.  
“Hungry yet?” he asked as he came down the stairs.  
“Nope,” Taylor lied, eyeing where the breakfast plate still sat on the floor opposite.  
He hated that he didn’t have enough length of chain for his hands to reach his underwear, but he was gauging whether or not he could reach it with his left foot if he stretched out enough. As if reading his mind, Fenton made straight for where it still sat around the chain.  
Taylor watched as he pulled it back up the length, feeling like a child as he lifted his foot so Fenton could fit it around his ankle. Once he had it up to his knee Taylor was able to reach to finish the rest by himself.  
“I’ll need you back over here,” Fenton stepped back over to the bed, near the original ankle chain.  
Taylor gulped slightly before looking up at the pulley. He began gauging how much weight it would take to pull the bolt from the beam it was supported by.  
“Unchain me first,” he looked to Fenton.  
“No.”  
“It’s too far!” Taylor insisted, “I almost put my back out getting over here, I’m not doing it again.”  
Fenton stood and stared him down for a moment. Taylor was the first to divert eye contact, his face already going red. But he wouldn’t move.  
“I’m not going anywhere,” he tried to insist, “not while my ankle’s still locked down.”  
He focused on keeping his breathing steady and hoping that Fenton couldn’t read his mind. It took an excruciatingly long time for Fenton to decide, but he finally stepped over to the chair again. Taylor kept his eye on him to make sure he wasn’t just going to grab him, but was relieved when he saw a key in Fenton’s hand. He held the chain down so that Fenton could easily reach the padlock.  
Once the lock on the chain was released Taylor pulled his hands down between his knees and leant forward. Mainly to try and get some movement back into his arms. Fenton waited until he looked up again before taking him by the shoulder.  
“Let me help you,” he offered, helping Taylor to his feet and getting ready to help move him over to the bed.  
Taylor feigned leaning on Fenton’s shoulder for balance, but once he was upright and had his weight on his good foot he knew it was time to make a move.  
Without warning he pushed back on Fenton’s shoulder and landed a punch across the man’s jaw. Fenton reactively recoiled but Taylor had already lost his balance and fallen into him. Using the momentum Taylor managed to get his hands over Fenton’s head and pull back against his throat with the chain of the handcuffs.  
Fenton went down with almost creepy silence, his choking at a minimum before losing consciousness. Taylor kept the pull on the cuffs tight until he was sure the man was out and only reluctantly pulled back.  
Checking his pulse – and using it as an excuse to keep his hands on the man’s throat just in case – he finally pulled himself together and turned Fenton over onto his stomach. Staying on his knee so he wouldn’t be tempted to put weight on his broken ankle he quickly searched Fenton’s back pocket where he knew the key to the ankle chain was hiding. He soon had it in his grip and fell back into a sit as he concentrated on undoing the padlock.  
It was harder than he thought it would be but he soon had it off. The first time his ankle had been free in a week.  
He quickly lunged back to Fenton’s pocket, searching for the key to the handcuffs as well. It took longer than he’d hoped but he finally found it tucked away and pulled it back in order to unlock the cuffs as fast as possible. Once the metal hit the ground he turned and crawled to the staircase.  
It took a long time to pull himself up, but he kept himself calm and determined knowing that all he had to do was find a phone. He knew he couldn’t run, but if Fenton awoke during that time it would already be too late. He just needed to call the police and say something along the lines of ‘this is Taylor Hanson and Dr Fenton has me in his basement’ and they’d be all over his house. He’d practised the line a number of times while waiting for Fenton to come home from work.  
He finally made it to the top of the stairs and reached for the doorknob.  
It was locked.  
“What?!” he breathed, trying it both ways in case he was wrong.  
He pounded on the door – vainly hoping to break it – before falling back into a sit against it.  
“Fuck,” he cursed, before eyeing Fenton’s still form back at the bottom of the stairs.  
He had to have the key to the door somewhere.  
After taking a moment to catch his breath, and making sure he wouldn’t get through the door without it, Taylor began to shuffle himself back down the stairs to go after the third key. He hadn’t felt another one in Fenton’s pocket but it had to be somewhere easily within his reach – Taylor had never seen him lock the door.  
When he made it to the floor he double checked Fenton’s back pockets before grunting as he rolled the man over onto his back. He quickly noticed a set of keys tucked into his front pocket, and when he pulled them out realised they were attached to his belt with a clip. As he undid it he noticed they were mostly similar door keys and he was going to have trouble finding the right one. But knowing he was running out of time, he curbed the immediate worry and crawled back to the stairs.  
When he got to the top he tried the doorknob again just in case he might have loosened it, but to no avail. Knowing he should have turned the television off first he also figured while he was trying the different keys that he might as well call for help.  
“HELLO?! Is anyone out there?!”  
When the third key didn’t work he hit the door in frustration before grabbing the next one.  
“Please! HELLO! Can anyone hear me?!”  
He was just about to try the fifth key when a hand suddenly grabbed his ankle. Dropping the keys to the top stair he turned to see Fenton on his hands and knees reaching for him.  
“NO!” he yelled, trying desperately to kick him off while reaching down for where the keys had fallen.  
Fenton used Taylor’s ankle to pull himself up further, taking hold of his calf as Taylor reached up to fit the fifth key into the lock. It didn’t turn.  
“HELP ME!” Taylor yelled out, hitting the door again to try and gain any attention he could, “SOMEBODY!”  
He yelped as Fenton gained the leverage to pull him back two stairs, before reaching down to try and fend him off. In the following struggle Taylor lost his balance on the stair and fell back into the railing, unexpectedly falling _through_ the weak wood the rails were made from.


	22. Chapter 22

Taylor hit the ground hard, landing face down with his elbows and knees hitting first. The fall would have been painful even without the added splinters of wood that landed underneath him.  
He coughed and tried to push himself up onto his hands and knees, prying his eyes open to only see blur. By the time he managed to get himself up he just as soon heard the snap of a padlock locking shut.  
“No!” Taylor’s cry was weak as he once again felt the pull of the ankle chain.  
He fell down onto his side and continued to cough, looking up to see Fenton standing over him.  
“Are you alright?” Fenton asked, though Taylor’s ears were ringing with the fall.  
He ignored the question, instead focusing on trying to push himself up again. He cried out each time he hit a splinter instead of the floor, but his adrenaline finally kicked in when he felt Fenton’s hand on his shoulder.  
He threw the man off and sat himself up, pushing himself back against the stairs. He frantically tried to wipe the dust from his hands, but they were cut from splinters and hurt too much. Momentarily giving up he used the back of his hands instead to try and clear his eyes.  
“You need to stay still,” Fenton’s voice came again.  
“You’re a psycho!” Taylor exclaimed, keeping an eye on him to make sure he didn’t get close, “just let me go! It’s been a fucking week already, you’ve had your fun! Now _let me go_!”  
He heard Fenton huff slightly before stepping closer. Taylor backed off as far as the chain would let him, hitting a doorway hidden underneath the staircase.   
“You’re hurt,” Fenton held a hand out to try and calm him, “let me help you.”  
“I don’t want your help!” Taylor scorned, “just leave me alone!”  
“Your wounds need attention-“  
“I don’t CARE!” Taylor’s voice rose, trying his damnedest not break down in front of him.  
Fenton paused for a moment, and then slowly backed away. Taylor took the moment to look his hands over and decipher exactly how bad they were. He managed to pull two large splinters from his right palm and one from his forearm, casting them aside before gingerly feeling down his left.  
“I’ve never seen you angry,” Fenton seemed surprised, though he stayed back by the bottom of the staircase.  
“What do you expect?” Taylor’s voice turned low as he concentrated on ridding his skin of the wood, “you’re keeping me here against my will. Anger had to enter the equation eventually.”  
When he was sure his left arm was okay he focused on his chest and right side.   
“Depression I would understand,” Fenton amended, “but anger…”  
“How many times do I have to ask you to leave me alone before you actually do?” Taylor looked up.  
“If I left you alone, you would eventually die down here.”  
Taylor lost his nerve to maintain eye contact at that. He pulled more splinters from his side as he worked himself up enough to go on.  
“And how many times do I have to ask you to let me go?”  
He paused as he waited for Fenton’s answer to this one. Predictably, he didn’t get one.  
“At least let me clean the floor,” Fenton insisted, “you’ll continue to hurt yourself as long as the fragments remain.”  
“Don’t act like you care all of a sudden,” Taylor scowled, “just get me a brush and I’ll do it myself. Or better yet, unlock my damn ankle.”  
Fenton paused again, registering the growth in Taylor’s frustration. Without another word he turned and began up the stairs. When he reached the point where Taylor had fallen through he collected some wooden fragments that were left on the stair before continuing up and through the door.  
Taylor groaned and leant his head back against the door, catching sight of himself in a mirror on the opposite wall as he did. He frowned as he realised the mirror took up half of the wall, ending just a few feet below the beams in the ceiling – or rather the floor of the house above.   
Not having seen this side of the basement before, he took a quick look around. The door he was leaning on had a bolt to close it with, and Taylor guessed it was just a small closet under the stairs. To his right it looked like crates underneath a large sheet of canvas, and in the back left corner sat some kind of wooden contraption in pieces.  
To the left of the mirror was about two feet of blank wall space, about three bolts drilled into it with a few feet of vertical space between them. To the left of that was the rack.  
When he heard Fenton’s footsteps returning he looked up to see him looking over the top of the stair rail, a small dust brush in his hand. When Taylor realised he was going to throw it he sat himself up so he could catch it properly.  
As soon as he had it he began cleaning the floor around where he’d fallen, careful not to sit or kneel on any more fragments. He knew he still had some splinters in his legs but they didn’t feel as heavily embedded as the ones that had been in his arms and side.  
He paused when the thought crossed his mind that all the dust had made him dirty again and Fenton might want to give him another ‘bath’. As long as he kept up his frustration levels – which wouldn’t be hard – Fenton seemed content to leave him alone for a time. He just had to make sure the doctor couldn’t get near enough to him to hit him with a tranquiliser or anything blunt.  
When he was almost done he heard Fenton descending the stairs again. When he looked across to the bottom he saw he had one of the chrome pails in his hand.  
“I need to go out for a while,” he regrettably announced, “we need groceries.”  
Taylor just froze to watch him, making sure he didn’t come any closer.  
“Is there anything you feel you need?” Fenton seemed worried to ask.  
“You’re kidding, right?” Taylor’s brow furrowed.  
Fenton eyed where Taylor had cleaned the floor before setting the pail down beside the wall.  
“In case you need it,” he gave a slight nod before starting up the stairs again. Taylor waited until the door closed behind him before collapsing back against the wall again. He soon heard the car pulling out of the driveway, and it didn’t take long to realise the sound was coming from the air conditioner.  
Pulling himself up to his knees he crawled over to it, using the side of the rack to pull himself up onto his left foot. The chain let him reach the other wall, and when he looked back he saw it had been moved to the opposite end of the bed to give him more room.  
A quick study of the air conditioner showed him the gaps where the sunlight had been coming through, and he soon realised he could hear cars passing by outside.  
“HELLO?!” he tried again, this time hoping his voice would travel further through the gaps, “IS ANYONE OUT THERE?! HELP! HELP ME!”  
He had to hop to keep his balance, but holding onto the air conditioner helped.  
“SOMEBODY! PLEASE!” he stopped only to cough, knowing he was already losing his voice, “SOMEBODY HELP! I’M TRAPPED!”  
After a few minutes with nothing happening, he stopped to lean against the wall. If he’d had access to a crow bar he might have been able to use the gap to break part of the wall away, but he’d still be chained to the bed in the end.  
He was just about to try yelling again when he suddenly heard obvious footsteps above his head.


	23. Chapter 23

“Hello?!” Taylor called out apprehensively, not having heard the front door open, and certainly not hearing Fenton’s car return.  
The footfalls didn’t seem rushed, and Taylor wondered for a moment if someone had simply broken in to rob the place. That would be just his luck.  
“Hello?!” he tried again, “is someone up there?! Please! I’m in the basement!”  
He waited as he heard the footsteps move again, heading toward the basement door. His heart leapt into his throat as he saw the doorknob turning, hearing a bolt move aside at the same time. Taylor made a mental note of it before the door opened to reveal a man… who wasn’t Fenton.  
“Hey!” his eyes widened, hopping on his foot as he judged whether he’d make the distance back to the stairs, “please! I’ve been locked down here for a week, I need help!”  
The man didn’t say anything in response, but he looked around worriedly. Taylor finally gave in and fell to his knees, crawling to the end of the stairs where he pulled himself up again.  
“Please!” he continued, seeing the look on the man’s face as he looked back into the house, “my name is Taylor Hanson. I’ve been on the news. My ankle is padlocked and my other one’s broken, but if you just tell the cops I’m here I’m sure they’ll come for me.”  
“What does Jim want with you?” the man frowned, not moving from the doorway.  
Taylor blanched. The man knew Fenton.  
“You know him?” he was already wondering why he wasn’t running for the hills.  
Taylor stood back as the man began to descend the stairs. He skirted the broken railing, but focused on where the ankle chain led. When he made it to the bottom he stepped over to the bed to check where it was anchored.  
“Oh you’re definitely not going anywhere,” he appreciated.  
“I know,” Taylor’s eyes darted up to the open door, “please, just go tell someone I’m here? There’re people looking for me, and he could be back at any second.”  
Taylor already felt uneasy at the man’s lack of eye contact, but the feeling tripled when he made his way over to the air conditioner. He studied the gaps around the edges before giving it a tap and chuckling incredulously.  
“What is it?” Taylor was suddenly afraid to ask.  
“The crazy son of a bitch actually did it.”  
Taylor felt his blood run cold.  
He grabbed onto the edge of the stair rail and used it to pull himself back around toward the bed. The man didn’t seem at all worried about leaving anytime soon.  
“Who are you?” Taylor asked, “and what do you know about it?”  
“I know that he was stupid enough to leave you free to yell for help,” the man stepped over to the rack and began looking it over.  
“You’re helping him?” Taylor frowned incredulously, wondering if he should start yelling again.  
Being away from the hole in the wall wouldn’t help, he knew.  
“No,” the man admitted, picking up the muzzle Taylor had woken up and freaked out with, “no… I didn’t know about this until now. But I certainly knew he had intent.”  
Taylor’s eyes froze to the gag before it was returned to the rack.   
“Please,” his voice broke as he struggled to comprehend the twist, “please let me go. I won’t tell anyone that you knew-“  
Taylor broke off when the man laughed again. He watched as he retrieved the handcuffs from where Fenton had replaced them on the rack before snapping one side of them open.  
“I swear,” Taylor shook his head, holding the railing tight as the man began over to him, “if you let me go I won’t say anything. I just want to go home.”  
“We all want to go home,” the man sighed dramatically, “but some of us just… can’t.”  
When Taylor saw him going for his wrist he pushed back from the railing. In his rush he lost his balance and hit the side of the bed on the way down.   
With a groan he rolled onto his side, coughing from the loss of breath. Before he could focus again the man was standing over him and had grabbed his necklaces to pull him up.  
Taylor struggled onto his knees, his nails grabbing for the threads as he choked, before he felt one side of the handcuffs snapping around his right wrist. More concerned with not being able to breathe he let the man push him face down onto the bed and managed to cough it out once he let the necklaces go in order to grab his left wrist. He groaned as he felt the handcuff lock into place, burying his face in the bedcovers in resignation.  
“Get down there you idiot,” the man scorned, pulling his arm back and pushing him down into the small space between the bed and the wall.  
Taylor groaned as he hit the floor again, pushing himself back with his chained ankle in order to get further into the corner and away from him. He barely noticed when the man looked up before hearing the sound of Fenton’s car.  
“Dammit,” Taylor cursed, cringing as he let his head hit the wall.  
He stayed put as the man paced the basement, waiting while Fenton brought the groceries in. It felt like he took forever before realising the basement door was open. Taylor heard his footsteps rush over to it, but couldn’t see him until he looked over the railing.  
“Seems you’re having trouble with the D part of BD,” the as-yet unnamed man mused, still pacing.  
“What happened?” Fenton had worry in his voice as he began down the stairs.  
“Your boy was making a bit of noise,” he eyed Taylor, “lucky I stopped by when I did.”  
Taylor made eye contact with Fenton when he made it to the bottom of the stairs, both men now looking down on where he sat against the wall.  
“Did he hurt you?” Fenton asked.  
Taylor frowned when he realised he was talking to him, but seeing the glare in the other man’s eyes he shook his head.  
“Call me Eric,” he told Fenton, “how long have you had him here?”  
“Since Tuesday,” Fenton disappeared from sight, heading for the rack.  
“I saw the news coverage,” ‘Eric’ kept his eye on Taylor, “you were lucky.”  
“Luck had nothing to do with it.”  
“I have to disagree,” he stepped back as Fenton returned.  
When Taylor saw he had the ball gag in his hands he struggled to back off into the corner again.  
“Calm down,” Fenton insisted, kicking part of the chain aside as he advanced.  
“No!” Taylor scorned, “I told you I will fight you every step of the way. That doesn’t end now.”  
“Jim?” Eric got his attention, “do you want my help or not?”  
“I don’t want to hurt him,” Fenton insisted, making Taylor frown incredulously again.  
“No pain no gain Jim,” Eric stepped forward and took the gag from Fenton’s hands, “you’ve cut him off from the rest of his life. Pain is the only thing he has to worry about anymore. It’s your only leverage.”  
“I don’t need it,” Fenton insisted, “we were doing just fine without it.”  
“Sure you were, that’s why I’m here,” Eric rolled his eyes, “stay right there. I’ll be back soon.”


	24. Chapter 24

Taylor sat mostly in silence as they waited for Eric’s return. Fenton didn’t want to leave his side, even to put the groceries away.  
After about ten minutes judging by CNN, Taylor cleared his throat.  
“What’s with the Tinted Windows videos?” he asked, his voice raspy.  
Fenton stared at him for a moment before looking back at the televisions.   
“I saw it,” Taylor added, leaning against the wall again, “is that all you ever did? Just watch videos?”  
He took a deep breath.  
“And plan this?” he added.  
Fenton looked sheepish for a moment, looking like he wanted to answer but holding himself back.  
“What came first?” Taylor blinked, “me or the bondage?”  
“You,” Fenton replied instantaneously, “you were always first.”  
Taylor didn’t know how to react to that, so he just shifted himself to make his broken ankle more comfortable. His eyes darted to Fenton when the man relented and came to sit on the edge of the bed.  
“I needed a way to keep you,” he explained without looking at him, “and while researching certain methods…”  
He shrugged, Taylor’s brow furrowing all the more.  
“I developed what you would call… a fetish. Of sorts.”  
Taylor gulped at that and turned his eyes away. He didn’t have time to come up with a reply before they heard the front door open and close.  
“What’s he going to do?” Taylor had to ask, attempting to push himself up again.  
“Don’t worry,” Fenton tried to assure him, “Eric is very good at what he does. He’s been doing it a long time.”  
Taylor just shook his head, not sure he wanted to know what that meant. He looked up at the stairwell as he heard Eric walking down, but couldn’t see him from where he was.  
“That’s it?” Fenton frowned as Eric made it to the bottom.  
When Taylor saw what he meant, he could feel his face losing colour. Eric was holding a large roll of silver tape, already using his nail to find the edge.  
“It’s all we need,” Eric assured, not bothering to look up.  
“For what?” Taylor kept his eye on it as Eric found the end.  
Eric finally looked to Fenton.  
“You might want to leave,” he suggested.  
“Why?” Fenton frowned as Eric made for Taylor.  
“If you don’t want to see him hurt…” Eric mused, pulling Taylor up by the arm, “you might want to skip this session.”  
“What are you gonna do?!” Taylor exclaimed, the sense of foreboding in the room at a peak.  
He fell back onto the bed when he lost balance on his foot and tried to push himself up onto it further. He momentarily made eye contact with Fenton as the doctor went back up the stairs.  
“You’re leaving me with him?!” he demanded before Eric suddenly kicked at the plaster cast.  
Taylor yelped, unable to use his hands to hold his leg.  
“Pay attention,” Eric demanded as the door closed behind Fenton, “you’re going to need to do everything I ask of you. Understand?”  
“No,” Taylor scowled, “why should I? What are you gonna do? Beat me up?!”  
“For starters,” Eric smirked, dropping the tape onto the bed and grabbing the chain.  
He gave it a sharp tug, pulling Taylor back to the edge of the bed. Taylor grunted as he tried to push himself back again, but Eric grabbed him by the hair and threw him down onto the floor.   
Taylor groaned as he once again hit the hard floor, turning over onto his back even though it squashed his arms. Eric was already on him again, grabbing for his hair and using it to pull him onto his knees.  
“What do you want?!” Taylor exclaimed, trying to pull his head away.  
His answer was a direct blow across the left cheek. Taylor yelled but couldn’t fall back as Eric kept hold of his hair.   
“Discipline, Hanson,” Eric’s expression had turned dark, “discipline is what I want. Are you going to give it to me?”  
“Discipline?” Taylor tried to catch his breath, “I’m not a child!”  
He yelped as Eric hit him again.  
“No, you’re a captive,” Eric corrected, “and you’re going to have to learn to do as you’re told.”  
One more hit and Taylor hit the ground. He could feel bruises layering onto the ones he’d already gotten in the fall.   
When he looked up to see where Eric was, he saw he’d gone back for the tape.  
“He’s already got me where he wants me,” Taylor insisted, rolling onto his side with a cringe, “and he’s already fucked me three times. He doesn’t want anything else.”  
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Eric assured, bringing the tape back and stepping over Taylor’s legs.  
“How?” Taylor frowned, “what else could he want?”  
“Let’s start…” Eric once again pulled him to his knees by the hair, garnering another yelp from Taylor, “with silence.”  
Taylor groaned again at the headache that was forming as Eric pulled his head back against his hip. He held him steady as much as Taylor pulled, and managed to bite off a piece of tape which he quickly fit around Taylor’s jaw. Taylor managed to wrench free when he was done and fall back onto his hip.  
“That’s better,” Eric sighed appreciatively.  
Taylor shot a look up at the door, already wondering how long Fenton was going to leave them down there. Eric was unrolling more tape and by the time Taylor realised he was going for his legs it was too late.  
He tried kicking out, but Eric had gone for the chained leg first. He quickly wrapped the tape around Taylor’s calves to hold his legs together before casting the tape aside again.  
“Come here,” he leant down to grab Taylor’s hair again.  
Taylor moaned into the gag as he was dragged to his knees, already finding it harder to gain his balance with his legs taped.   
“Calm down, calm down,” Eric scorned, “here, let me help you.”  
And Eric took hold of his head, suddenly pressing Taylor’s face into his groin. Taylor struggled when he realised what had happened, but Eric just chuckled.  
“Breathe you idiot, breathe,” he insisted, and Taylor realised he wasn’t going to let him go.  
Taylor squeezed his eyes shut, forced to breathe in the scent of crotch sweat. His hands desperately reached around his left, the fingers of his left hand grappling for Eric’s pant leg to try and gain some leverage.  
“Don’t you dirty my clean pants with your bloody dusty hands,” Eric scorned, giving his hair a yank to dissuade him.


	25. Chapter 25

It felt like forever before Eric finally pulled back, and Taylor sat back onto his legs as he waited for what he’d do next.  
“It’s a shame I can’t leave your mouth open,” Eric mused, smiling down at him as he stepped over to the rack, “you’re just the right height to give my slut wife a well-deserved break.”  
Taylor moaned into the gag at that, trying to instantly wipe the thought from his mind. In the distraction he didn’t see what Eric had picked up until he’d cracked the whip and made him almost jump out of his skin.  
“Now these…” he ran his fingers down the leather appreciatively, “are not for child’s play. Surprising, considering Jim’s reluctance to ‘hurt’ you.”  
Eric cracked the heavy whip again, and Taylor inadvertently felt his eyes welling up.  
“Maybe he just wanted to scare you,” Eric reasoned, returning to Taylor’s side, “I on the other hand…”  
He let the leather trail over Taylor’s shoulder, amusing himself with the shiver it caused.  
“…Have a better use for them. Lean forward. Put your head on the ground.”  
Taylor tried to shift his legs, but couldn’t part his knees. Knowing it was going to hurt he did as Eric instructed and leant forward. His head hit the rug with a thud and he closed his eyes.  
“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Eric cracked the whip again, making Taylor jump.  
Taylor kept his eyes closed as he heard Eric walk around him, and suddenly felt very self-conscious knowing Eric was likely sizing him up. When he stopped pacing behind him he began praying Eric wouldn’t decide to rape him.  
When he suddenly felt Eric pull down on his underwear, he lifted his head to let out a muffled cry.  
“Keep your head down,” Eric scorned, cracking the whip to their right.  
Taylor groaned, but did as he was told. Eric pulled them down so that his backside was bare, neatly tucking them under Taylor’s left ankle to hold them in place.  
“Stay,” he ordered as if commanding a dog before walking back to the rack.  
Taylor soon realised his underwear was well out of reach of his hands. Unable to move without falling over, he couldn’t even shift himself to stretch his back before Eric returned.  
Judging by the shadow Eric was casting to the floor he had something long and thin in his hands this time.  
“It’s amazing,” Taylor jumped a little as he spoke again, “that you’ve been here a week and yet none of these toys have been played with. I know Jim works long hours but still… guy needs to let loose once in a while.”  
Taylor took deep breaths through his nose as Eric knelt down behind him, flinching as a hand rested on his left cheek. He tried to bury his face in the rug and imagine this wasn’t happening, but when he felt the plug go in it once again became all too real.  
Taylor squirmed as he fought with himself not to fall over, his yells coming out muffled as he tried to plead with Eric to let him go. But Eric wasn’t done yet. To Taylor’s horror a small tuft of wind signified the anal plug’s inflation.  
Unable to take the pressure in his position, he finally fell onto his side. He couldn’t reach down to where the plug was with his hands cuffed and instead tried rubbing his face against the rug to try and catch the tape on his jaw.  
“Relax,” Eric scorned, stepping over him again, “you’ve felt worse from Fenton I’m sure. At least this keeps still.”  
Taylor only grunted in response, feeling the skin on his cheek start to burn from the carpet. He didn’t stop until Eric leant over and took hold of his hair again, wrenching him up enough to land another blow across his cheek.  
“I said _stay_!” he scorned, dropping him again only when he stopped squirming.  
Taylor paused to catch his breath, keeping his eyes open this time to watch as Eric went back to the rack. His eyes were now tearing for more than one reason and he couldn’t make out what Eric chose next.  
Just as Eric was making his way back to Taylor’s side, they heard the door upstairs opening and Eric stopped to look up.  
“Enough,” came Fenton’s voice, making Taylor close his eyes with relief.  
“Really?” Eric sounded surprised, “we’re just getting started.”  
“You’ve had long enough,” Taylor’s brow furrowed when he realised Fenton didn’t sound all that confident, “and I need to speak with you.”  
“I’m sure anything you have to say, our friend here won’t mind keeping secret,” Eric smirked, leaning over to take hold of Taylor’s necklaces again.  
Taylor’s cry was once again muffled by the gag as he struggled to balance himself on his knees without choking.  
“Eric,” Fenton seemed to plead with him.  
“Alright, alright,” Eric grumbled, throwing Taylor down onto his side again and returning whatever he’d had in his hands to the rack.  
He paused at Taylor’s side as he walked past, before leaning over again. Taylor tried not to move as Eric replaced his underwear and gave his backside a pat, knowing it was likely to get him another punch.  
“You behave now,” Eric insisted, “or I’ll be back.”  
Taylor waited until Eric had gone up the stairs before he even thought of trying to move again. There was a pause before Fenton closed the door behind them, but once Taylor heard the bolt slide into place he carefully curled his knees into his body and squeezed his eyes shut.  
He could hear the two talking upstairs, Eric not offering anything on what he’d done and yet defending his actions in the name of teaching obedience. Fenton’s replies were quiet and made it obvious to Taylor who was actually in charge. Eric could very well have continued if he’d wanted to, and Fenton wouldn’t have been able to stop him.  
The two were talking for some time – the voices eventually getting too far away to decipher – before Taylor finally heard the front door open and close. Realising that Eric had left he found himself hoping that Fenton would return to the basement to find his predicament, but the house fell silent when Taylor heard a television turning on upstairs.  
With an inward groan Taylor looked up to the bed. The chain on his ankle still had some length to it but he knew it wouldn’t stretch far. Instead of aiming for anything else he carefully worked his way back to the side of the bed – every movement seeming to pull on the plug and actively remind him of what had just happened.  
When he made it to the side of the bed he tried to sit himself up, but instantly thought better of it. He knew that sitting might not be the best idea right now. Instead he remained on his side and rested his forehead against the wall, concentrating on his breathing and trying not to feel how badly bruised he was becoming.  
According to CNN Taylor knew it was almost time for Fenton to make their evening meal, but today it seemed he either wasn’t going to share or he was simply in no rush.


	26. Chapter 26

Taylor knew it had been dark for a while before he heard the door opening again. He hadn’t moved.  
There was a slight pause before the door creaked a second time.  
“Taylor?” Fenton’s voice came uneasily.  
He still didn’t move. He knew if he did that it’d hurt all over. His injuries had begun to set in, and he was already stiff from the fall.  
He heard Fenton step over to the rail and stop when he must have seen where he was. After a relieved sigh he closed the door behind him and began down the stairs.  
Taylor stayed put until Fenton reached his side. He looked up at the man standing over him, hoping his body language would convey that he really couldn’t handle any more surprises that night.  
When Fenton reached down he flinched backward a little, but he’d already cornered himself so well that he had nowhere to go. When he saw that Fenton was attempting to help him sit up, he shifted back a little and shook his head with a short moan of protest.  
“What is it?” Fenton frowned, “you’re hurt. I need to see you.”  
When Taylor simply stopped again, Fenton stood back. He disappeared around the stairs before returning with a small pocketknife. Thinking the worst Taylor attempted to back off again.  
“Calm down,” Fenton insisted with his other hand out, “I’m just going to free your legs.”  
Taylor waited to see if he was telling the truth, and was relieved when all Fenton did was slit the tape and pull it away. Fenton reached over to take him by the arm when he was done, and unable to move back any further Taylor moaned again in protest as he was pulled up against the wall. He found it harder to sit to the side and ended up on his knees instead.  
“You’re bruised,” Fenton stated the obvious, crouching to reach a hand out to Taylor’s cheek and turning it slightly so he could see easier, “I’ll need to disinfect those cuts.”  
Taylor’s breathing heavied, knowing what that meant.  
“But we’ll need to wash you again first,” and there it was, “I’ll go fetch some water. We’ll get it done tonight.”  
Taylor watched as he stood and went back to the stairs, resting his head on the bed to wait for his return. He heard the taps running and the pail filling before Fenton’s footsteps hit the stairs again.  
When he came to the bottom Taylor was surprised there was only one pail. Fenton set it down by the front of the bed before throwing a cleaning cloth into the water, and coming back to help Taylor up.  
Taylor cringed and grunted as he made it onto his chained foot, almost immediately falling back onto his side on the bed. While he was distracted with the fall and not keeping an eye on Fenton, he suddenly felt the shorter chain encasing his ankle.  
Moaning again through the gag and trying to pull his foot back, he knew it was already too late. Fenton quickly removed the longer chain and left him once again with the shorter one.  
“Sit up,” Fenton said softly, readying the cleaning cloth as he waited.  
Taylor made a sound of protest, at the same time looking up to try and gain Fenton’s attention. Fenton seemed more concerned with looking over his body than with anything Taylor would be trying to tell him.  
When Fenton put a hand on Taylor’s right thigh, Taylor flinched and began trying to indicate with his cuffed hands.  
“What is it?” Fenton finally picked up, not moving from where he was leant over.  
Taylor groaned and wriggled his body a little to the side, but Fenton wouldn’t relinquish his grip on his thigh. He managed to grab the right side of his underwear and tug at it.  
“You want it off?” Fenton guessed.  
Taylor grunted, wishing he’d just get rid of the gag and let him talk properly. He certainly didn’t want to lose them but at this point it’d be a small price to pay.  
Before Taylor realised exactly how Fenton was planning to undress him, he’d already retrieved the pocketknife and slit the side seams. Taylor knew that complaining would be fruitless and instead waited for Fenton to figure out his plight. It didn’t take long.  
He took his hand from Taylor’s thigh and grabbed his hip instead, using it to turn him over onto his stomach.  
“Did Eric do this?” he sounded confused.  
Taylor couldn’t help but roll his eyes. As if he would have done it to himself.  
Fenton took hold of the device, quickly deflating it before removing it. Taylor groaned in relief, closing his eyes as he heard Fenton take it away. He soon returned and Taylor heard the cloth in the water again, so he managed to finally push himself up so he was sitting. Fenton was wringing out the cloth to make sure he wouldn’t make a mess.  
He gave Taylor a quick once-over, avoiding his more serious wounds and needing him to stand only once, before taking to the more fragile task of focusing on those wounds. His knees, elbows and heels of his hands were grazed, and Taylor could feel his face already swelling from Eric’s hits. Fenton saw to his bodily wounds before deciding to focus on his face.  
There was a large graze on his right cheek, and as Fenton touched he could feel a heavy bruise setting in around his left eye. The right side of his face had taken the brunt of the fall, whereas the left had taken the brunt of Eric. Though he was careful Taylor still flinched every time the cloth touched his cheek.  
“Eric requested I leave the tape in place overnight as a lesson,” Fenton informed him when he was almost done, “but I need to remove it to make sure you’re okay.”  
Taylor just nodded, hoping he could convince him to leave it off in the meantime. Exercising caution, Fenton slowly pulled it back from where it had already set into Taylor’s facial hair. He hadn’t been clean shaven when he’d been taken, and he now had a week’s growth added on top of that.  
Once it was off he took a deep breath before Fenton took hold of his chin to take a look. He hummed to himself a little, running a thumb along Taylor’s lower lip.  
“Minor tissue damage,” was his prognosis, “but that split lip will hurt for a while. I’ll find you an alternate gag for tonight.”  
When Fenton left his side to go to the rack, Taylor found himself having to work up the nerve to respond.  
“Wait,” he pleaded, Fenton not bothering to turn back until he’d found some suitable cloth, “I’ll be quiet, but… I’m really hurting right now.”  
If he couldn’t appeal to Fenton’s humanity, he was going to try his profession.  
“I swear I won’t try anything again,” his voice broke slightly, “just please leave it off.”  
“Trust is something we’re going to have to work on, I’m afraid,” Fenton sighed, kneeling on the bed a little so he could reach to tie the cloth.  
Taylor hung his head in defeat, not having the energy to try and defend himself. Fenton gave him a gentle pat on the head when he was done before backing away.  
“He will be back tomorrow,” Fenton revealed, “but I promise to stay with you this time.”  
“ _Oh God,_ ” Taylor moaned into the new restriction.  
When Fenton only returned to the rack, Taylor tried to cross his legs and sit back further on the bed.


	27. Chapter 27

For the second time, Fenton spent the night. For the first time he was the first awake.  
Taylor jolted only when he felt an arm embracing his waist. The second thing he felt was the gag still in place, and just as soon he felt the cold metal of the handcuffs.  
Fenton was pressed close against him with one arm now draped over him. Taylor wasn’t entirely sure if he were awake or just getting comfortable in order to sleep again.  
A sudden movement from behind told him exactly what was about to happen, and he immediately tried to brace himself for what he knew was coming. Fenton easily kept his arms out of the way by squashing them against his back, and with the smaller ankle chain back on he couldn’t move his feet far either.  
Thankfully it was over quick this time and Fenton moved away to give him his space. Taylor rolled onto his stomach to give his arms a reprieve, though his shoulders were aching twice more today than yesterday.   
He heard Fenton starting to clean up, taking some pails and Taylor’s uneaten breakfast from the day before back up the stairs. Taylor could already feel his stomach churning and wondered if Fenton would try feeding him again that day or if he was going to starve him like before. He certainly felt that he’d had enough punishment for what he’d done already.  
Fenton took his time upstairs and Taylor began to wonder if he was going to leave him alone for a while. Debating trying to get some more sleep, he turned his attention to CNN instead. It was just before 7am and the Monday morning news appeared boring. Odd after a weekend, Taylor thought.  
He saw something on the weather about Tulsa getting colder in the coming week before Fenton returned to the basement. Keeping his legs crossed as best he could Taylor watched as Fenton replaced two pails – one of them evidently half full of water. He frowned as he wondered what he was going to do next before seeing he had a razor tucked under his arm. It wasn’t an electric one either.  
“Sit up,” Fenton instructed, setting the razor and an earlier hidden bottle of shaving cream on the nearby chair.  
Taylor obediently pulled himself up, groaning as his body ached when he moved. When he shifted to sit himself on the end of the bed his eyes fell to the floor at the sound of the chain. Fenton quickly used the cloth to dampen Taylor’s face – careful around his wounds – leaving the gag in place until he had the cream ready.  
“This might hurt a little,” Fenton warned, “but it’ll be worth it.”  
“For who?” Taylor’s voice was raspy with lack of use already.  
“For you, in the long run,” Fenton assured, “Eric evidently likes to use tape instead.”  
Taylor froze at the reminder that the man was coming back. When he’d first laid eyes on Eric he’d looked like any other middle-aged man about to head off for a game of golf at a country club. He’d been well-dressed and initially well-mannered, fitting in perfectly to the ideal setting of the upper class neighbourhood Taylor had envisioned Fenton living in.   
He was the classic last person you’d expect to be involved in something like this. Which he knew was why he hadn’t been found. Even if he had been the last person to see him, who would suspect the likes of James Fenton?  
The realisation brought sudden tears to his eyes. He knew that if the authorities were going to look into Fenton they would have done it thoroughly within the first few days. But the next morning would be an official week since he’d been taken.  
“Stop it.”  
Taylor jumped as Fenton spoke, realising he’d stopped what he was doing and was staring at him.  
“Stop what?” he asked worriedly, eyeing the blade in Fenton’s hand.  
“Stop it!” Fenton’s voice rose, as he suddenly dropped the blade to the bed and backed off.  
Taylor’s eyes widened at the unexpected outburst, watching as Fenton paced while he struggled with something unknown.   
“I’m sorry,” Taylor offered, “if I did something wrong, I’m sorry.”  
“No,” Fenton shook his head before nervously wringing his hands.  
Taylor felt a shiver run down his spine. He had no idea what had happened, but whatever it was had put Fenton on edge. He suddenly felt glad that he’d dropped the razor, but began wishing his hands had been tied with rope instead of metal. Or at least something he could cut through.  
After taking a moment to compose himself, Fenton returned to his side. But instead of taking up the razor again he pulled a small key from his pocket.  
“What is it?” Taylor was worried as Fenton took him by the shoulder.  
Fenton didn’t reply until he’d unlocked the handcuffs.   
“Did something happen?”  
“Just… be quiet,” Fenton was obviously unnerved as he took the cuffs away.  
Taylor eyed the razor while Fenton was gone, but knew the key to the ankle chain was back in its usual place. He didn’t like the odds of getting out of there alive if Eric suddenly appeared and found Fenton bleeding or worse.  
Fenton replaced the cuffs on the rack before coming back to the bed. Taylor shivered as Fenton picked up the razor, cradling his wrists in his lap in an effort to cover himself.  
He frowned when Fenton turned the handle to him.  
“Finish it yourself,” he instructed, his voice a lot more steady.  
Taylor looked up in surprise, wary that it might be some sort of test. Fenton hadn’t let him do anything for himself since he’d gotten there, let alone something that involved a possible weapon.  
“Are you sure?” he had to ask.  
“Take it!” Fenton’s voice rose again, making Taylor jump.  
He took the razor in his right hand leaving the other to cover himself, and as soon as Fenton had relinquished it he headed for the stairs. Taylor waited until the door was bolted behind him before leaning forward with a groan.  
He had no idea what had just happened. But he knew that if he didn’t do as he was told he was going to have to face Eric with it at some point.  
Being careful – and wishing he could use the mirror on the other side of the room – he finished the right side of his face and knelt on the floor to use the water in the pail to wash himself off. When he was just about done he heard Fenton’s footsteps overhead, and able to drown out the drone of CNN in the background he could hear him talking on the phone.  
The thought crossed his mind to try yelling, but he could barely hear Fenton’s voice as it was and he knew whoever he was talking to wouldn’t hear him either.  
Not to mention the last time he’d called for help, it was Eric who’d shown up.  
As he tried to make out what Fenton was saying he pulled himself over to sit on the chair. He hadn’t sat up straight in a long time and he rolled his head back to stretch his neck.   
Fenton’s voice was still slightly raised which made it easier to understand. He was still agitated, and he was begging someone to hurry up. The way he spoke made it obvious to Taylor that it was Eric on the other end of the line, and Fenton was begging him to return as soon as he could.


	28. Chapter 28

“FENTON!”  
Taylor paused, wondering if the man had maybe gone out and he just hadn’t heard him. He’d been gone for hours, and CNN told him it was already early afternoon.  
“DOCTOR FENTON! HELLO?!”  
He stopped when he heard footsteps overhead. He’d worked out a few days earlier that the basement must have been under half the living room and half a bedroom. He usually only heard footsteps directly overhead at times he’d assume Fenton would be in either.  
When these footsteps didn’t come to the door, Taylor opted to try again.  
“FENTON PLEASE!” he yelled out, “I NEED SOMETHING!”  
He stopped to work himself up to add the next part.  
“I NEED YOU!”  
It worked. A few footfalls later and he heard the door unbolting.  
He sat forward on the chair as he waited for Fenton to appear, the doctor already looking disgruntled.  
“I’m sorry,” Taylor insisted when he realised Fenton wasn’t planning on descending the stairs, “but I’m _really_ hungry. Please?”  
He took in Fenton’s stare, realising he was somewhat getting used to his awkward silences. The next move Fenton made was to close the door again.  
“PLEASE!” Taylor yelled after him, “can I at least have some water?!”  
He put his head in his hands when he heard the bolt being replaced. If he continued yelling he was going to do some real damage to his voice, and if Eric ever was coming over he needed to be ready.   
With a disgruntled sigh he reached out for the end of the bed and used it to pull himself back over. He was still tired from the day before and figured he should get some rest if the coming night was going to be anything like it.   
Now that he was completely naked aside from the chain, the plaster and his necklaces he opted to pull the bedcovers aside. He wasn’t surprised to find high quality satin sheets, even though they seemed dreadfully out of place in the old – yet well kept – basement.   
He had to untuck the sheets all the way down the left side of the bed so that he could get his chained ankle inside and he shivered at how cold they were when he first got in. As he settled in he vaguely wondered if Fenton had a heater as well as the air conditioner, knowing if it were this cold already then winter was surely going to be a test.  
He opened his eyes again at the thought that he could be here for winter. He was sure if Fenton and Eric had their way, he would be. Aside from not giving him any sort of timeframe, Taylor was definitely picking up on vibes that told him Fenton had a long-term plan. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could pretend the threat wasn’t there.  
Day six, he tried to stay focused as he closed his eyes again. It was almost the same time of day as when he’d taken Willa for her needle.  
He hadn’t even kissed Natalie goodbye.  
He shook his head and rubbed his eyes, trying to think of something else to focus on. There was no point thinking about work – there was nothing he could do about it.  
Zac had been angry when he’d left.  
With a groan he rolled onto his back, wishing he’d found the light switch at the bottom of the stairs. Even if he couldn’t reach it he might have been able to throw something to turn it off. Focusing instead on trying to cover his eyes from the light with the thin sheets, he found himself soon succumbing to how worn out he really was.

*

Taylor was only woken up when the bolt on the basement door was driven aside and the door opened. Either the bolt was already getting louder and needed oiling, or he was just tuning into it so much that he instantly awoke to it.  
His eyes struggled to focus against the light as he untangled his shoulders from the sheets, but when he looked up at the stairs it wasn’t Fenton coming down.  
It was Eric.  
“You set him free?” he threw a scornful look over his shoulder.  
Taylor sat up and gathered the sheets to cover himself as Fenton appeared in the doorway behind him.  
“And he’s had a shave,” Eric mused as he stepped off the bottom stair, “ain’t that sweet? Get up.”  
Taylor’s eyes shot to Fenton. He was slowly making his way down, but offered no other direction.  
“You know, your face is looking… colourful,” Eric indicated his own, “I find myself tempted to add more blue.”  
Taylor winced at that before reluctantly shifting the sheets further. He had to pull himself forward so he could set his chained foot on the ground, but he wasn’t ready to stand up and reveal himself.  
“On your knees,” Eric indicated the floor in front of the bed.  
Taylor looked to Fenton again but he appeared to be ignoring him still. He’d gone to the rack and was looking through a few different lengths of chain. Without Fenton’s defence Taylor hung his head and moved the sheets aside.   
He quickly fell onto his hands and knees before kneeling properly and using his hands to cover himself again, all the while avoiding eye contact.  
“Will this do?” Fenton asked, bringing the selected chain to Eric.  
“It’ll do fine,” Eric assured, “would you look at this? He’s being modest.”  
Taylor felt himself blushing but tried not to draw attention to it. He already knew that if Eric was going to try and induct him into some kind of BD lifestyle that humiliation was going to be a strong part of the process.  
It was already working.  
“I saw what you did to him,” Fenton didn’t sound happy about it.  
“Yeah, yeah,” and Eric didn’t care, he just stepped closer.  
Before Taylor looked up to see what he was doing, the chain had slipped around his throat and Eric had a padlock in place.  
“NO!” Taylor immediately panicked that Eric was going to hang him.  
His fingers grappled with the padlock as his face turned white before Eric gave the chain a tug to make him lose his balance. He fell forward and landed on his hands, his left going straight back to the chain.  
“Be careful,” Fenton insisted.  
“Basic rule of being dominant toward him,” Eric was talking to Fenton, not Taylor, “you are not equals. Therefore you need to stop treating him like one.”  
“I wasn’t,” Fenton defended.  
Taylor grunted as Eric tugged on the chain again, sending him down onto a hip.  
“Then keep him down,” Eric scorned, “if you’re standing, he needs to be kneeling. He needs to constantly be looking up to you. And the bed should only be a reward.”


	29. Chapter 29

“He’s already in pain, he needs somewhere comfortable to sleep,” Fenton reasoned.  
“He doesn’t need anything,” Eric tugged on the chain again making Taylor grab for it, “except water and occasionally to be fed. You need to keep him alive, anything else is creature comfort.”  
“Stop doing that,” Fenton stepped forward to defend him.  
“Or what?” Eric scorned, “who are you going to tell?”  
“Please don’t,” Taylor struggled to get his fingers between the chain and his neck to relieve the pull.  
“Shut your mouth,” Eric held the chain where he could aim a kick at Taylor’s face.  
Taylor cried out as Eric’s boot made contact with his already bruised cheekbone.  
“This isn’t teaching me anything,” Fenton insisted, “you’re just hurting him.”  
“True, but it’s fun for me,” Eric smirked, looking down as Taylor precariously felt his cheek with his fingertips, “I believe I told you to get on your knees.”  
Taylor glared up at him, wondering how he was supposed to balance himself when Eric was trying to make sure he couldn’t. When Eric saw the look he instantly kicked him again. This time Taylor fell onto his back cupping his jaw.  
“What’s the point of this?” Fenton frowned, evidently uncomfortable.  
“He needs to learn to do as he’s told, that’s the point,” Eric already seemed to be losing patience.  
Another pull of the chain made Taylor focus again. He rolled onto his side and with a little difficulty pushed himself up onto his knees again.  
When he saw blood on his hand he realised his lip had split open again.  
“That’s better,” Eric spoke down to him before looking to Fenton, “get me the cuffs.”  
Taylor’s eyes shot to Fenton as he went to retrieve them. He felt like he’d only just gotten out of them, and now he was going to have to deal with them again.  
He also realised that if his hands were cuffed behind him again it was going to leave his privates open to Eric.  
“Can I request something?” Taylor asked softly, looking nervously between them.  
“No,” Eric scorned, indicating for Fenton to cuff him.  
Taylor reluctantly let the doctor do so, keeping his eye on Eric as he went to the rack himself. He was looking over a selection of leather before settling on the muzzle gag Taylor had woken up in the day before.  
Fenton looked up when Taylor fell back toward him and started pushing himself back toward the bed.  
“He’s not ready for that,” he insisted.  
“Then he should learn to keep his mouth shut,” Eric brought it over regardless.  
Taylor had backed himself against the bed at this point and had nowhere to go. With Fenton to his right Eric came at him from the left and took hold of his hair.  
“He’s not ready,” Fenton repeated, firmer this time.  
Taylor just squeezed his eyes shut, praying that staying quiet at this point would change Eric’s mind. They shot open again when he felt the leather against his cheek.  
“Eric-“  
“He’s ready,” Eric insisted, staring down at him.  
Taylor felt his eyes already tearing up at the prospect but Eric moved fast. While Taylor was distracted by fear he was able to let go of him and use both hands to slide the mask over his head. Taylor struggled too late, when Eric was already fastening the straps.  
“Hey,” Fenton tried to get his attention, putting a hand on his head once Eric moved down, “it’s okay. Just breathe.”  
Taylor’s eyes darted but he tried to focus on his breathing. A smirk from Eric’s direction didn’t help but he tried to concentrate on Fenton’s voice and the hand still on his head.   
“It’s okay. You’re alright. Just stay calm.”  
“Really?” Eric scorned, “no wonder he thinks you’re treating him like a child.”  
“Everyone has fears,” Fenton defended, “Taylor’s just happen to be related to what we’re doing.”  
“Oh…” Eric mused, Taylor starting to shiver when he realised what had just happened, “that’s just too good. We have a claustrophobic on our hands? Or is he just afraid of the dark?”  
Eric took hold of the chain again and began winding it around his hand. Taylor could barely see past the straps half covering his eyes but he could see enough of what he was doing. After looking to Fenton at his side he didn’t bother waiting for the direction he knew was coming. He gingerly shifted himself forward and pushed himself onto his knees – Eric watching every move with a curious eye.  
“Not as dumb as he looks,” he smirked as Taylor kept his eye on the chain.  
If Eric pulled on it again, he wouldn’t be able to shield himself in the fall.  
“Should have made him wear it sooner,” Eric mused as he paced slightly, “you might have had more obedience.”  
“It hasn’t been that bad,” Fenton reasoned.  
“Eyes down,” Eric tugged at the chain as Taylor’s eyes wandered.  
He struggled to keep his balance but his eyes shot to the floor.  
“Jim,” Eric called him over, “take this.”  
Taylor decided to concentrate on his breathing and close his eyes instead. He felt the exchange as Eric handed Fenton the chain.  
“Now pull him over.”  
“What?” Fenton was unsure as Taylor clenched his fists in preparation.  
“You heard me,” Eric insisted, “he needs to learn who’s in charge here. If you want him to hurt, he’s going to hurt. There’s nothing he can do about it.”  
“But I don’t want him to hurt,” Fenton returned.  
“He needs to in order to learn,” Eric was disgruntled again already, “now do it before I do it, and then take my impatience out on you.”  
Taylor took deep breaths just wishing he’d get it over with. In the end he wasn’t sure who pulled the chain but he managed to turn his head to the side to lessen the blow.  
“On your knees,” Eric demanded almost as soon.  
Taylor groaned into the gag as he tried to roll onto his side. He was able to use his hands to push himself up sideways and awkwardly return to his knees. Knowing this could go on all night he felt the tears springing to his eyes again.  
“How long until his leg heals?” Eric demanded.  
“Another five weeks,” Fenton replied.  
“You have time then,” Taylor felt the pull as Eric retrieved the chain from his apprentice.  
He hurriedly tried to blink the tears away, knowing he wouldn’t be able to see well as it was and he needed to pay utmost attention to Eric. Before another word was spoken he heard Fenton groan.  
“He’s doing it again,” he sounded distressed.  
“What?” Eric demanded.  
“I can’t. Just… give me some time,” Fenton’s footsteps headed for the stairs.  
Taylor looked up in panic. Fenton had promised not to leave him alone.


	30. Chapter 30

“Shut up!” Eric kicked at Taylor again as soon as he began to protest, “Jim get back down here!”  
“Just give me some time!” Fenton’s voice rose in kind, the basement door opening as Taylor fell to his backside from the hit.  
When he heard the door close again Taylor tried to push himself back against the bed, but Eric’s hold on the chain kept him still.  
“Where do you think you’re going?” Eric caught his attention as he felt the pull.  
Taylor felt himself shake as Eric took a step toward him, and it wasn’t from the cold. When Eric stooped and used the mask to pull Taylor back to his knees Taylor let him without making a sound, but when he used the height to take hold of Taylor’s throat he panicked again.  
“Calm down,” Eric insisted as Taylor’s hands struggled to reach around his back.  
He wasn’t pressing enough to choke him, but certainly enough to prove that he could if he wanted to.  
“Calm down. I want you to do something for me.”  
“ _What?_ ”  
“Quiet,” Eric frowned, tightening his grip slightly.  
Taylor squeezed his eyes as he choked slightly, only opening them again when Eric let up.   
“Are you listening?” Eric checked, waiting for Taylor’s nod.  
“I want you… to help me with something. But I’ll need you to sit on the bed for me. Understand?”  
Taylor nodded again, telling himself that at least he didn’t want him laying down.   
“Good,” Eric mused, finally letting his throat go altogether, “move.”  
Taylor looked back for where the bed was before casting a quick glance up to the door. Fenton wasn’t coming back anytime soon, he knew it.  
Eric stood again and waited for him to shift so Taylor pushed himself back toward the bed. When he reached the end he used his hands to pull himself up, managing to sit himself on the edge without knocking the plaster cast at all. When Eric followed and sat beside him Taylor shifted to the right.  
“Don’t move,” Eric tugged on the chain to keep him from moving further.  
Taylor felt another shiver setting in as he froze. He heard Eric moving, but couldn’t see what he was doing. When he finally looked to the side he saw Eric’s belt out the corner of his eye, and when he looked down he saw that Eric already had his fly open.  
“ _What the-?!_ ” Taylor tried to back away, though the ankle chain wouldn’t let him get far.  
Eric had immediately grabbed the other chain again and used it to pull his head down.  
“Settle down,” he insisted, “I won’t ask you to do anything you haven’t already done for yourself.”  
Taylor groaned at that, closing his eyes. Eric finishing what he was doing one-handed before discarding the chain.   
Instead Taylor felt Eric take hold of his left wrist and pull it over. Taylor looked up to the door again wishing Fenton would make an appearance, but his prayers seemed to be as muffled as his voice.  
“Take it,” Eric ordered when Taylor felt his fingers brush skin, “gently. Take it.”  
Taylor reacted by clenching his hand into a fist. As a result Eric swapped hands and held Taylor’s wrist with his left, using his right to take hold of the gag. Taylor groaned again when he felt Eric’s hand move down to his neck once he had him leaning close enough.  
“Do it,” he lowered his voice, “or I will squeeze until you fall unconscious. And when you wake up…? We’ll do it all over again.”  
Taylor grunted, trying not to let his tears fall. He knew Eric meant what he’d said, he had no reason to not believe him.  
When Eric began to tighten his grip without any further warning, Taylor quickly opened his hand and felt around. All he could feel at first were Eric’s pants until Eric guided him and he finally took hold.  
“Gently,” Eric reminded him, “stroke it. Slowly.”  
Taylor did as he was told, barely touching it unless he had to. He started with his eyes closed before deciding to keep them open and focused on something else.  
“Tighter,” Taylor jumped as Eric’s grip on his wrist tightened, “you know what to do.”  
Taylor didn’t even dare nod, as Eric hadn’t moved his right hand. Instead he just did as he was told and tried to do what he predicted Eric wanted him to. It wasn’t long before he heard Eric moan slightly but he didn’t move either hand.  
When Eric grunted the first time Taylor flinched, and that drew the first reaction. Eric’s grip on both his wrist and neck tightened.  
“Don’t you dare fucking stop,” Eric’s voice came out just above a whisper.  
Taylor quickly put more effort in as if to apologise for the momentary lapse, and he soon had Eric moaning again. When it started getting intense Taylor began to realise he was feeling nails.  
Knowing what would happen if he stopped Taylor concentrated on both pleasing Eric and on his breathing. As long as he kept his breathing shallow he thought he would be okay.   
He was wrong. As Eric concentrated more on what he was receiving as opposed to what he was giving, his grip on Taylor’s throat only intensified.   
He tried to cry out and draw attention to it but he’d already lost too much air. His only other option…  
Eric yelled when his nails dug in and immediately let go of Taylor’s throat. Taylor desperately tried to catch his breath as Eric stood from the bed, not able to before Eric landed a punch across his left cheek again.  
Taylor fell back onto the bed with the force – squashing his hands – still working on his breathing before Eric bent over to grab his chained ankle. Taylor grunted as Eric lifted the foot but then cried out when he realised what he was doing.  
Without hesitation Eric snapped his little toe.  
“Don’t you _ever_ fucking do that again,” Taylor barely heard the veiled threat as he writhed on the bed, “you hear me?!”  
He threw Taylor’s foot aside and he quickly tried to pull it into his body. The chain kept it at the end of the bed so he rolled onto his left side.  
It was in time to see Eric doing up his pants and retrieving his belt. He was glaring down at him.  
“You think this is funny?” he demanded, making Taylor shake his head, “believe me, we’re only just getting started. By morning you won’t just be Jim’s bitch, you’ll be _anyone’s_ bitch!”  
When Eric looked up Taylor realised the basement door had opened. He looked over his shoulder to see Fenton in the doorway.  
“What happened?” he demanded.  
“Nothing, he’s fine,” Eric assured, stooping to collect the end of the chain attached to Taylor’s neck.  
Taylor groaned when he realised what that meant. He also noticed that Fenton wasn’t moving from the doorway.  
“Shut up and get back on your knees,” Eric tugged.  
Taylor felt himself choking on the gag at Eric’s pull before working to push himself toward the end of the bed again. It wasn’t long before he was back on his knees, this time with tears in his eyes.  
“Now,” Eric obviously wasn’t happy, “let’s get back to work, shall we?”


	31. Chapter 31

By the time Fenton returned to the basement Taylor had been sure he’d fallen asleep upstairs. Taylor had been close to passing out himself, but Eric was very much awake and letting him would have been the last thing on his mind.  
Not when – as he reiterated a few times – he could give his wife the night off.  
“That’s enough,” Fenton’s voice interrupted what Eric had been doing.  
“If you’re not going to join in…” Eric mused as he rubbed Taylor’s back, “you could at least give us some privacy.”  
“Enough, Eric,” Fenton reiterated, “it’s late and I have to work tomorrow.”  
Taylor closed his eyes at that. Fenton was finally trying to take charge, after leaving him alone for so many hours with this madman.  
“Tuesday, right…” Eric smirked.  
“You need to leave.”  
Eric rolled his eyes and stood from where he’d been kneeling. Taylor looked up from where he was bent over the seat of the chair, watching as Eric made for the stairs.  
“You know you could make a lot of money from this guy,” he began as he made his way up, “I personally know a lot of people that would be willing to pay to spend time with him. You wouldn’t even have to pimp him out.”  
“That’s not going to happen,” Fenton insisted, standing aside as Eric made it to the top.  
“Your loss,” Eric shrugged, “or theirs, I guess…”  
He chuckled to himself before stepping through the door. Taylor saw Fenton give him one last glance before closing it.  
Either he didn’t see the chain holding Taylor in place, or he didn’t care.  
He heard the two of them talking on the other side of the door, Fenton mostly reiterating that he was tired and Eric needed to leave. Eric spoke about unfinished business and wouldn’t leave without the promise that he could return sometime soon. When Fenton gave it, Taylor finally heard him leave.  
Then the lights went out. When Taylor heard Fenton’s footsteps walking away from the door he tried to yell out to gain his attention but the gag muffled his voice far too much to be heard over the television.  
In defeat he rested his chin on the edge of the chair. The chain from his neck was draped under the chair and wrapped around the beams connecting the legs. It then went through the bottom rungs and wrapped around his knees, holding his legs against the other side with a second padlock.  
A smaller chain made sure his hands were secured to the top of the gag and he couldn’t reach to defend himself from Eric’s intrusions.  
He took a few deep breaths as he tried to work out what to do. He couldn’t sleep where he was because he might put too much pressure on his chest and inadvertently suffocate himself. However if he managed to slide himself from the seat at least he might be able to lay on the floor.  
He pulled his head up as far as he could without lifting the chair with him. He practised wriggling his body to the right, focusing on his abdomen first. It was a very slow process and it hurt his empty stomach when he ended up on the edge, but he finally fell down onto his side on the ground with a thud and had to work to catch his breath again.  
He couldn’t free himself from the chair but at least he’d taken the pressure off for now. Hopefully Fenton would find him in the morning and let him free again.

*

Only the door opening woke Taylor again. The light was already on when he opened his eyes and tried to move, only remembering where he was when he couldn’t.  
He groaned at the pins and needles in his right shoulder as he heard Fenton making his way down, and jumped when Fenton put something on the chair.  
Fenton stepped aside and Taylor panicked for a moment that Fenton was going to leave him again. The doctor soon returned with keys and began to unlock the padlocks.  
Taylor waited until all the chains were gone before trying to push himself up. Fenton cast them aside before helping him.  
“Breakfast.”  
Taylor looked to the chair, seeing two pieces of toast on a plate with a bottle of water. He was so hungry he felt sick so he couldn’t wait to eat.  
“You’ll have to eat quickly,” Fenton was already undoing the gag, “I need to replace it before I leave.”  
Taylor glanced toward CNN. It was still early but he knew Fenton had to be at work soon.  
The gag finally came off and Taylor took a shaky breath.  
“He broke my toe,” was the first thing he got out.  
Fenton paused from where he’d been about to unlock the cuffs. He did so anyway, leaving the right cuff on Taylor’s wrist.  
“Which one?” he didn’t sound happy.  
Taylor pulled his leg in with a slight gulp, indicating the small toe. Fenton took hold of his foot and Taylor grimaced as he inspected it.  
“I can’t do anything now,” Fenton insisted, “I’ll take care of it when I get home.”  
“Why did you leave me?”  
Taylor felt childlike for asking, but the betrayal stung surprisingly hard. He needed to know.  
Fenton simply cuffed his hands together in front and slapped his hand on the chair.  
“Eat,” he insisted, “I don’t have time for this.”  
Taylor kept his eye on him as he stood back but took one of the pieces of toast. He found he had to force half of it down but he knew he wouldn’t get another chance.  
He quickly guzzled some water as Fenton went about sorting out his bathroom for the day. He stopped to make sure the toast was going down okay before reaching for the second.  
Fenton was obviously tired and not in the mood to talk, so Taylor otherwise remained quiet. When he disappeared upstairs momentarily Taylor took the time to move the chair back toward the bed a little and lift himself onto it so he could reach to eat better. Fenton returned soon after and stopped at the bottom of the stairs.  
“Get on the floor,” he ordered.  
Taylor paused, confused, before setting the toast aside and dropping to his hands and knees. Once he was sitting Fenton made for the bed, sitting on the edge and unwinding a bandage. When Taylor realised what he was doing he offered his foot without Fenton having to ask for it.  
Fenton made a temporary splint and bandaged his toe the best he could. Taylor tried to finish the toast as he did so, finding it hard when the pain would occasionally shoot up his leg. When he was done Fenton packed up his kit but left it on the bed, getting up only to fetch the gag from where it had been discarded.  
“Could I just have the cloth? Please?” Taylor thought to try before Fenton put a hand on his head.  
“Wouldn’t you prefer the use of your hands?” Fenton pointed out before setting it in place.


	32. Chapter 32

Taylor spent most of the day laying on his back on the bed. It felt good to stretch his back out, and with Fenton being weird about him sitting on the bed earlier he was no longer sure how much time he’d get to spend on it.  
It was the midday bulletin on CNN that caught his attention first. He sat himself up to watch, ready to collapse again as soon as it was over.  
“ _Yes, it’s been a week now and there is still no sign of the missing Hanson brother. Taylor’s daughter was recovered on Friday night where someone had left her at a church, and authorities now believe she may have been found by a good Samaritan worried about handing her in themselves…_ ”  
“ _What?_ ” Taylor frowned, confused.  
“ _Police have turned to combing every major park and waterway between Hanson’s home and the church where Wilhelmina was found, but are yet to turn up a body…_ ”  
“ _Oh my God,_ ” Taylor’s eyes widened when he realised what they meant.  
They already thought he was dead.  
He sat himself up properly and shifted to the end of the bed where he could focus more, trying to use his fingers to move the straps in front of his eyes a little.  
“ _Police are urging anyone with information to please contact the crime hotline as they are very concerned for Mr Hanson’s welfare at this stage…_ ”  
 _Of course they are. They think I’m dead,_ he thought.  
He watched the story to the end, wondering for a moment if either Fenton or Eric had seen it. It would probably have been good news for them – the more they looked for a body the less they looked for him being held somewhere. If they’d even checked to begin with, considering how quick they’d been to assume he’d taken Willa and run.  
They probably assumed at this point that he’d been killed in a carjacking and the perpetrator hadn’t realised Willa had been in the car.  
Or they had, and they’d initially tried to look after her before accidentally breaking her finger and then deciding to give her up.  
Or maybe they thought he really had run, but decided to give Willa back to Natalie at the last minute. Even though the church she’d been left at held no significance to the family whatsoever. If he had done it he would have at least left her somewhere that it’d be obvious it was her… come to think of it he wouldn’t leave her at all. The logical thing would have been to just take her back to Natalie after her appointment like he’d planned to all along.  
Why would he pick _that day_ to run anyway? He would have chosen a significant date at least. Not some random Tuesday at the beginning of December. Not just before Christmas, and not just before Natalie’s birthday.  
Certainly not in the middle of a recording session, no matter how heated it had gotten.  
The sound of Fenton’s car pulled him from his thoughts. He quickly rubbed his eyes to try and rid them of the tears he’d worked up while thinking about his family and frowned as he tried to see what time it was on the television.  
He was home early. It was unusual to say the least.  
He didn’t bother moving from the end of the bed as he heard Fenton make his way through the house. He seemed to go about his usual end-of-day routine before coming to check on him. Taylor didn’t bother looking up when the door first opened, and as expected it closed again a moment later.  
Taylor leant forward and put his head in his hands as he waited for him to inevitably return. He hoped his coming home early didn’t have anything to do with the news report, as it had aired about a half hour earlier. He wasn’t sure where Fenton lived but he knew the surgery opened for the day about a half hour after the time he left every morning.  
When Fenton finally did return he didn’t seem to be in a hurry. Taylor gave him only a glance as he came down the stairs, returning his eyes to the floor as he waited for what Fenton would do. Fenton checked the bathroom before reaching down for the ankle chain. Realising he wanted to check the splint Taylor brought his foot up onto the edge of the bed to make it easier.  
“Has it moved?” Fenton asked flatly.  
Taylor shook his head, unable to reply any other way. He let Fenton inspect the toe without hindrance before Fenton let it down and stepped away. He grabbed the bathroom pail and headed for the stairs again.  
Taylor looked towards the television and took deep breaths. If Fenton wasn’t going to let him talk he wasn’t going to be able to ask what he needed to. Reassuring himself that Fenton had to at least feed him again that night, he closed his eyes and waited for him to return with the clean pail.  
He didn’t take long, and he’d brought another kit with him. When Taylor recognised the tub as the one Fenton had used to set his ankle the week before, he groaned.  
As Fenton set up he pushed himself back on the bed, keeping his hands in his lap and his chain ankle at the end so Fenton could reach it. Fenton set a towel underneath it and carefully removed the splint before continuing to mix the plaster.  
“I had a word with Eric this morning,” Fenton began without making eye contact.  
Taylor kept his eye on him as he spoke, gauging his expression. As usual he got nothing.  
“He won’t be seeing you again,” Fenton added, “at least not for some time.”  
Taylor sighed in relief at that, rubbing what he could of his face for a moment.  
“I will heed most of his advice, but not all of it,” Fenton went on as he carefully began to set the plaster, “I’d also like you to take some of his lessons on board, and use them.”  
Taylor returned his head to his hands. Eric hadn’t ‘taught’ him much other than how to behave when racked with fear.   
Not to mention how to withstand being chained in compromising positions.  
When Fenton was done he set the plaster in a bandage before finally letting Taylor’s foot go and starting to clean up. He took everything back upstairs, and this time when he returned he closed the basement door behind him.  
Taylor fervently hoped he wasn’t planning to rape him while he had two broken bones, but it certainly hadn’t slowed Eric down any. Not that Eric had raped him but with what he’d put him through he’d certainly come close.  
Taylor kept his hands in his lap – half to cover himself – and his legs crossed as he sat on the bed. Fenton stepped over to check the television sets and to make sure the key was still in place before returning to the bed. Taylor eyed him as he sat on the edge, looking like he wanted to say something but he possibly wasn’t sure what.  
“It’s been a week,” he began softly, “I wanted to do something for you.”  
 _Taking the gag off would have been a start,_ Taylor thought.  
“Perhaps on the weekend when we have more time,” Fenton sighed, clasping his hands together.  
Taylor’s mind already began haunting him with possible answers as to what Fenton meant by that. When Fenton finally turned to look at him, the look in his eye sent a shiver down Taylor’s spine.


	33. Chapter 33

Taylor inched away as Fenton came for him, but controlled himself when he realised Fenton was going for the gag. He let him swiftly unlock it, rubbing his mouth as soon as it was off. Fenton didn’t even react to the trail of saliva left on it. Instead he stood to set it on the chair, picking up the still half-full bottle of water from where it had been left and passing it over.  
Taylor took it thankfully and had a drink.  
“I take it you saw the news report,” Fenton was avoiding eye contact again as he sat on the edge of the bed.  
Taylor took a deep breath, stopping himself from finishing the bottle then and there. He screwed the cap back on and set it aside.  
“I did,” he admitted.  
He fought with himself to try and work up the nerve to ask what he felt he had to.  
“The case seems to be slowing down,” Fenton didn’t seem sure what to say about it either.  
“Can I ask a favour?” Taylor finally blurted, keeping his eyes to the bedcovers, “it’s nothing to do with letting me go, I promise.”  
Fenton turned to watch him for a moment, before reaching over to his chained leg and gently placing his hand on Taylor’s calf. Taylor let him, knowing flinching wouldn’t get him onside.  
“Of course,” Fenton assured.  
Taylor grit his teeth, hoping his unpredictable reaction wouldn’t be bad enough that he’d want to call Eric regardless. It had been less than a day since the man’s torment and Taylor really didn’t think he could handle it again.  
“Could you let my family know I’m alive?” just the words aloud made him emotional.  
Fenton removed his hand. Taylor instantly panicked.  
“Please!” he tried to insist, “I wouldn’t ask you to implicate yourself, I swear. There has to be a way to do it so they don’t know you’re involved. I just need them to know. You can say I ran away, I don’t care. But they can’t bury an empty casket.”  
He bit his lip and shook his head.  
“No family should have to go through that.”  
“No,” Fenton obviously wasn’t agreeing – he was saying ‘no’.  
Taylor grit his teeth again, feeling his adrenaline spike.  
“You could write a letter,” he suggested, “or get me to write it. I won’t say anything about where I am, just that I’m alive.”  
“No,” Fenton repeated.  
“An email then?” Taylor wasn’t giving in, “you could go to a public place, create a fake email account and email Nat. I’ll write hers down if you-“  
“No,” Fenton’s voice grew sterner, “and I want you to forget about this idea.”  
Taylor’s breath caught in his throat as he’d been about to suggest more ideas. His eyes fell to the bed and he bit into his fist as he rocked himself forward slightly.  
“Why not?” he eventually asked, “what could it hurt?”  
“No contact, that’s the rule,” Fenton lay down the law.  
“Who’s rule?” Taylor frowned, before getting the dreaded feeling it might have been Eric’s.  
“It’s just the rules,” Fenton was determined, “it’s just what we have to do.”  
“I don’t believe that,” Taylor shook his head.  
Fenton frowned, and Taylor shot him glances unable to keep his eyes on him for long. When Fenton turned to look at him again Taylor figured he’d get in first.  
“And I don’t think that you believe it,” his voice gave away how he wasn’t sure, “I think someone else is pulling the strings here, and I don’t think you’re as heartless as you want me to believe.”  
“It’s nothing to do with heart,” Fenton responded.  
“It’s everything to do with it. It’s everything to do with empathy,” Taylor turned his gaze to the wall.  
“It has nothing to do with empathy,” Fenton corrected, “you’re here for physical reasons.”  
“That’s not true,” Taylor shook his head, feeling his nerves start to give, “if it were it wouldn’t be me here. You’d have a kid you could mould. Maybe just one that looked like me.”  
“It had to be you,” Fenton frowned again, “it always had to be you.”  
“Why?!” Taylor’s voice rose.  
This time he flinched as Fenton reached for him again. But instead of his calf he took hold of the chain, pulling on his ankle slightly and easily reiterating to Taylor how trapped he was.  
“It just had to be you,” he was trying to be sincere.  
“But it doesn’t have to be _them_ ,” Taylor was racing to reason, feeling like an ultimatum was coming, “they didn’t do anything to deserve this. Surely they deserve some peace of mind.”  
“What peace of mind would it give them?” Fenton looked curious all of a sudden, “to endlessly wonder what it was they did wrong to make you want to abandon them?”  
Taylor stared at him in silence, the drone of CNN taking over. He hadn’t thought of it that way. He’d just wanted them to know he was alive so there’d be a possibility of him coming home. So that they’d keep looking.  
He ran his fingers through his hair, once again feeling the ache in his shoulders from the cuffs.  
“I don’t know what would be worse,” he admitted, his voice quiet.  
“Don’t you think it would be better for them to be able to move on with their lives?” Fenton suggested.  
Taylor felt his eyes starting to water again and turned away so Fenton wouldn’t see.   
“I’ll go make us some lunch,” Fenton gave his ankle a gentle pat before standing from the bed, “some food will make you feel better. We’ll have a quiet afternoon.”  
“Why are you home?” Taylor quickly asked as Fenton made for the stairs.  
“What?” Fenton paused at the bottom.  
“From work,” Taylor amended, “you’re home early.”  
“Oh,” Fenton realised, “I always finish early on Tuesdays. You were my last appointment last week.”  
As he left the basement Taylor thought that one over. He’d certainly planned it well… but then why wasn’t he looked into further?  
What exactly did he tell the cops for them to not consider him a suspect?  
Once Fenton was out of sight Taylor buried his face in one of the pillows to let these latest tears fall.   
He already felt as if he’d have to wait an entire week to try this again. But at least Fenton hadn’t gotten mad, and he hadn’t threatened to call Eric back. Hopefully he could get through to Fenton somehow without him ever having to do it again.   
Fenton took his time but returned with sandwiches. Taylor did his best to rub his eyes but ended up keeping them down most of the time anyway. Fenton was content not to say a word and just to watch Taylor as he ate. Taylor tried to focus on CNN in case they replayed the story, but it wouldn’t show again until the evening broadcast.  
When they were both done Fenton disappeared upstairs again and was gone for a few hours. He left the door open a crack, but with his plastered feet Taylor didn’t want to move from the bed to spy. Fenton returned sometime before dinner, but as he’d promised it was a ‘quiet night’.


	34. Chapter 34

Taylor soon learnt that ‘a quiet night’ meant no rape. Unfortunately they were going to be far and few between, as Fenton was back to it the very next day. They were very soon on a strict schedule which saw Fenton feeding Taylor his breakfast before gagging him while he spent all day at work. Now that Taylor was somewhat used to the muzzle it became his staple, but it meant aside from the cuffs his hands could be left free. When Fenton got home each day he would either give in to his urges straight away (possibly after a hard day) or spend a few hours upstairs before appearing with their evening meal to share.   
Fenton didn’t spend the night in the basement if he had to work the next day, but he would on Saturdays and Sundays. Each time Taylor awoke to another rape and he found within the first fortnight that he was beginning to be unsure of the count already.   
The surprise that Fenton had promised for that weekend came with Monday night’s dinner in the form of a bottle of Mmmhops. Taylor was caught off guard with how much he found the small act mean to him. He hadn’t had anything familiar in almost two weeks and rather than sending him into further emotional turmoil he found it somewhat nostalgic.  
He didn’t ask Fenton again about contacting his family. He’d thought over what he’d said and realised the doctor was right. While he knew it would be killing Natalie to not know what had happened, at least she wouldn’t have to live with the knowledge of what really was.  
Regardless, Fenton had made it clear that he wouldn’t humour him.  
He very soon spent the majority of his days trying to keep warm and sleep. December was disappearing fast and the weather forecast was already not very promising. As Christmas drew closer Taylor could feel himself falling into the grip of a prolonged anxiety attack. The idea that he might be kept away from his family at such a significant time of the year – not to mention both Natalie and Viggo’s birthdays – was killing him a week out already. He knew that Fenton had absolutely no intention of letting him contact them even for Christmas, and thinking of how they might have to spend it without him was starting to make him exceedingly emotional.  
During a particularly cold day Taylor found himself trying to use the pillowcases as clothing and huddled so far down into the bed that he was almost worried he wouldn’t find his way out again. He didn’t bother moving when Fenton returned from work in the evening, and he could hear the man pause when he reached the bottom of the staircase.  
“Taylor?” he called somewhat gingerly.  
Taylor let out an affirmative grunt which was all he could offer through the gag. He begrudgingly managed to untangle himself enough to make eye contact, but ended up shivering even through that small movement.  
Fenton came to remove the gag as he usually did after work, giving Taylor a curious look as he did so. Taylor didn’t move enough to either help or hinder.  
“It’s cold,” was all he offered once he could talk.  
“I know,” Fenton replied, taking the gag to the end of the stairs and hooking it over the railing.  
“Could I _please_ just have some clothes?” Taylor begged for what he felt had to be the thousandth time.  
“No,” Fenton responded as blandly as he always did.  
Taylor grit his teeth, only glad they weren’t chattering. Surely Fenton had realised that if he planned to keep anyone – or anything – alive down here he’d have to at least supply warmth.  
“New blankets then?” Taylor suggested, his eyes following him, “or a heater?”  
“I don’t like the idea of a heater causing a fire,” Fenton admitted uncharacteristically.  
“So leave it in my range, I can make sure it doesn’t,” Taylor assured, annoyed to find his voice shaking along with his body.  
Fenton frowned at that, as if trying to come up with a reason not to.  
“Doctor Fenton I am desperate,” Taylor insisted wholeheartedly, “if you get me a heater I’m not going to do anything to compromise it. I need it. You don’t spend all day down here, it’s _freezing_.”  
As if on cue he could feel a sneeze coming. He suppressed it as best he could as he waited for a response.  
Fenton took a seat on the end of the bed, running his fingers along the edge of the bedcovers. He seemed to think it over before eventually sighing.  
“I could get some cotton sheets,” he relented, “maybe a down quilt…”  
“Yes, yes thank you,” Taylor was earnest.  
“But I need my heater for myself,” he stated flatly, “I might see what I can find when I go to the store on the weekend.”  
Taylor took a moment to comprehend that Fenton was happily enjoying his own heater upstairs while he froze downstairs. Reminding himself the man was probably paranoid that Taylor would use it against him somehow he shook the accusation off.  
During his pause he could no longer contain the sneeze, and instead muffled it in the bed sheets. When he looked up again Fenton was staring at him.  
“Are you sick?” he almost demanded.  
“I don’t know,” Taylor replied honestly, “I’m just really, really cold. The weather report says it’s only getting colder and I don’t know how much longer…”  
He trailed off as he felt another sneeze coming. Managing to suppress it he barely noticed the look Fenton was giving him.  
“This won’t do,” Fenton said simply before standing from the bed.  
Taylor’s eyes followed him, taking in the unhappy look.  
“What?” he was suddenly worried.  
“You need to be able to breathe,” Fenton went to the stairs, “a cold – or influenza – inhibits that.”  
Taylor watched him disappear into the house again before rolling his eyes.  
“But it doesn’t matter if I lose feeling in my limbs,” he muttered under his breath, trying to move the bedcovers so he could sit up more comfortably before dinner came.  
When Fenton returned Taylor was surprised that he didn’t bring it with him. Instead he brought to the bed a fresh bottle of water and three small tablets.  
“Take these,” he held them out.  
Taylor didn’t bother unwrapping his arms, he just stared up at him.  
“I don’t want to take anything,” he was suddenly afraid of what Fenton might knowingly give him.  
“Take them,” Fenton’s voice grew stern, “you don’t want to get sick, do you?”  
Taylor instantly began weighing his options. At least being sick would give him something to focus on. On the other hand, it could make a mess…  
Giving in purely because he’d rather not face any repercussions, he managed to get his arms out of the sheets and reach out for them. Fenton watched like a hawk to make sure he took them before checking his open mouth and taking the water back.  
“I’ll return with dinner shortly,” he announced, returning to the staircase.  
Taylor watched after him in silence, wondering what on earth he’d just swallowed.


	35. Chapter 35

When Taylor awoke the next morning he was sneezing a lot more. Fenton had left him ungagged for the night as a precaution, and when Taylor realised he was having trouble breathing through his nose he couldn’t have been more thankful.   
Before Fenton made an appearance for breakfast he began hoping he wouldn’t be gagged for the entire day, and he might be able to shout for help again. But a groan when he tried to huddle down and keep warm told him he was already losing his voice.  
Shouting wasn’t going to be an option, no matter what Fenton decided.  
Fenton didn’t take long to appear with breakfast and Taylor realised he wasn’t hungry. It wasn’t a good sign. Fenton took one look at him and realised he was worse.  
“How did you sleep?” he asked, still not seeming to be overly worried.  
“Not much,” Taylor replied honestly without moving from where he was huddled, “it was cold.”  
Fenton set the breakfast on the chair as usual before giving Taylor another once over and heading back for the stairs. Wondering at the silence Taylor tried to judge whether he’d be able to stomach any food before he might be gagged, before hearing some loud bangs from the basement door.  
When he looked up he saw Fenton struggling with something. When he realised it was the heater he almost cried with relief.  
Fenton had trouble getting it down the stairs and he left it at the bottom, taking the cord back behind the televisions and unplugging the old one so he could use the outlet. The heater sputtered to life, and Taylor recognised why Fenton might be worried about it starting a fire. He knew where it was sitting he’d just barely be able to reach it but he was still having trouble standing on his left foot.  
“You need to eat,” Fenton insisted when he realised Taylor hadn’t moved.  
“I will,” Taylor assured, though he wasn’t certain.  
Fenton disappeared upstairs again. As soon as he was gone Taylor made an effort to move to the end of the bed so he could be closer to the heater, and before he could settle again Fenton had returned with a box of tissues.  
He set them on the chair beside Taylor’s breakfast before staring down at it unhappily.  
“I should stay home with you,” he thought out loud.  
“You can’t do any more than you already have,” Taylor croaked out.  
 _Besides give me some clothes._  
“You’d just be sitting here all day trying not to get too close. You might as well go to work.”  
“Then I should call Eric to come watch you.”  
“NO!” Taylor exclaimed, louder than he’d intended to.  
When he locked startled eyes with Fenton, he gulped. There was an awkward moment of silence.  
“Telling you I’m fine isn’t going to work, is it?” his brow furrowed.  
“No,” Fenton responded simply, only returning to the stairs.  
“Please don’t call him,” Taylor pleaded with him, knowing he sounded even more pitiful with a blocked nose.  
“I won’t,” Fenton assured, making it halfway up the stairs before he did so.  
When he disappeared into the house again Taylor eyed his breakfast. With the heater on he was already feeling a little better but he still wasn’t hungry. With the unusual circumstance he didn’t know if he had to worry about eating fast or not yet.  
Deciding to focus on it later, he pulled the sheets tighter around him and concentrated on retaining his body heat. He’d closed his eyes and almost fallen asleep again when he heard Fenton come back.  
Fenton went about the usual morning routine, returning after cleaning up to offer Taylor further drugs. Taylor took them without question, wincing as they slid down his sore throat. Fenton made a point of checking his pupils and gauging the redness of his throat (at the same time confirming that he’d swallowed) before sighing as he checked his watch.  
“I’m going to be late,” he didn’t seem too worried about it, “I will try and leave early to come home.”  
Taylor didn’t bother replying, knowing he wouldn’t talk him out of it.   
“I’ll see how you are when I get back. If nothing changes I can procure some medicines first thing in the morning.”  
“Thanks,” Taylor managed to croak out without moving.  
Before Fenton even left the basement he’d already fallen asleep again.

*

It was mid-afternoon when Taylor heard Fenton’s car returning – early as promised. He’d managed to stomach at least half of his breakfast by then before feeling sick, but he’d run out of water early on. Yet instead of taking the time to concentrate on further escape efforts he’d found himself having to sleep for most of the morning.  
Fenton appeared soon after Taylor heard the car pulling up and Taylor could already hear a kettle on upstairs. He didn’t bother moving from where he was huddled into the bed sheets as Fenton went about assessing what Taylor had used.  
“How do you feel?” he asked almost absently as he checked how many tissues were left.  
“Warmer,” Taylor answered honestly, not sure how he felt otherwise.  
He had to cough as soon as he spoke and he covered his face in case his nose was going to run.  
“You’ve only touched half your breakfast,” Fenton realised.  
Taylor didn’t respond to that, just closed his eyes as he concentrated on breathing. Fenton cleaned his bathroom out, removed the food and empty water bottles, and disappeared upstairs with some of the restraints he’d used lately. When he returned a moment later he had two water bottles and a packet of plain biscuits like the ones Taylor had first been given.  
Taylor only opened his eyes when he felt Fenton sit on the edge of the bed.  
“Here,” Fenton offered him more drugs with one of the bottles.  
Taylor hesitated but forced himself to sit up and take them. He waited until a moment of dizziness passed before having another drink – to make up for the last couple of hours of no water.  
“You need to eat some more,” Fenton insisted after checking the drugs were gone.  
“Can I please have the cuffs off?” Taylor changed the subject, catching Fenton off guard, “I can’t even hug myself with them on, and it’s still cold.”  
“Taylor-“  
“I saw you have some with a longer chain,” Taylor looked toward the rack, unable to indicate it otherwise, “I could wear those instead.”  
“Those are for your ankles,” Fenton looked confused, “for when you can walk again.”  
Taylor flinched at the reminder of how long Fenton was planning to keep him there. Just as soon he felt his eyes start welling again.   
“So I’ll be cuffed for the rest of my time here,” he nodded, his voice shaky.  
“Calm down,” Fenton’s voice hardened.  
“I am calm,” Taylor insisted as he put his head in his hands, trying not to let it overwhelm him.  
“Then stop crying,” Fenton scorned.  
Taylor made a concentrated effort to stop, before frowning as he put two and two together.  
“Is that why you called Eric the other day?” he had to ask, “because I _cried_?”


	36. Chapter 36

“You had to expect that,” Taylor frowned, “you’ve isolated me from my wife, my kids… from everything I’ve ever known! You didn’t think I’d get emotional over that?”  
“Calm down,” Fenton repeated, his eyes almost flashing.  
“What do you want from me?” Taylor shook his head, “if I get angry, you call Eric. If I cry, you call Eric. I can’t just be an emotionless doll, I’m a fucking _human being_.”  
“Watch your language,” was Fenton’s first retort, making Taylor roll his eyes and look away.  
“Then tell me what you want,” Taylor pleaded, “because if it’s fear you already have it in spades.”  
“I never wanted you to fear me,” Fenton frowned, suddenly looking him in the eye.  
“Then what?” Taylor’s brow furrowed as he tried to understand.  
Fenton stared him down, this time with an obvious need for something to say. Taylor had nothing to do but wait.  
“I think that if you have to ask…” Fenton felt for where Taylor’s ankle was under the sheets, “you may not be ready to know.”  
“Please don’t play with me,” Taylor shook his head, “I’m unwell and I’m stir crazy. You leave me locked down here with nothing to do while you go to work, but you expect me to stay on the same sleep and food schedule as you do. I have no incentive other than fear because I know what you and Eric are capable of.”  
“You’re saying you need something to help pass the time?” Fenton tried to understand.  
Taylor grit his teeth, looking down at where Fenton’s hand remained around his ankle.  
“It would help,” he finally admitted, “so I’m not just laying here all day and night wondering why.”  
Fenton almost looked disheartened at the perspective.   
“I’ll see what I can do,” he offered, “for now you just concentrate on getting better.”  
Taylor waited until Fenton removed his hand before rubbing his face again. He hadn’t gotten out of that what he’d expected to, but it had been better than nothing.  
Maybe Fenton would slip up and inadvertently give him something to use against the ankle chain.  
“Christmas is next week, isn’t it?” Taylor confirmed as Fenton stood from the bed.  
The man reached for where he’d left the biscuits on the chair and set them down on the bed just in front of Taylor.  
“Yes,” he replied after a moment.  
“I take it I can’t…” Taylor trailed off, unable to say the words.  
Fenton paused as if to wait for him to go on. When he realised he wouldn’t, he sighed.  
“You won’t be contacting your family, no,” Fenton confirmed his thoughts.  
“Then if you don’t want to see me cry you need to leave,” Taylor insisted.  
Fenton watched him curiously for a moment before Taylor hid his face in his hands. With a dejected grunt Fenton headed for the stairs.  
“I’m making soup, it shouldn’t hurt your throat,” he announced on the way up, “I’ll return with it shortly.”  
Taylor waited until he heard Fenton’s footsteps in the house before he looked up again. He didn’t bother going for the tissues as he let himself succumb to his tears, unable to stop them if he really wanted to.   
Deep down he knew that one day this would simply be looked back on as a horrible experience – no matter how long it did eventually last – but he couldn’t look past what he was missing at home in the meantime. He wouldn’t get this month of his life back.  
Fenton was gone for quite a while, and Taylor began to wonder if he was leaving him alone on purpose. But when he did return with the soup Taylor remembered what he’d been doing.  
Taylor quickly used the sheets to wipe his face as Fenton came down, reaching for the tissues when he was done and using them for his nose. He noticed Fenton avoid looking in his direction as he set the soup on the chair.  
“Eat while it’s warm,” Fenton stirred it with the supplied spoon as Taylor rubbed his face again.  
“I’ll do my best,” Taylor promised, eyeing it as Fenton made to leave again.  
When he stopped halfway up, Taylor looked up worriedly.  
“We’ll talk about Christmas,” he seemed to promise without looking back, “I admit I’m not so sure what to do.”  
“How so?” Taylor frowned, having expected it be simply another day in the basement dungeon.  
“I spend the day with my sister in Oklahoma City,” Fenton ran his fingers along the remaining stair rail in a pacifying manner as he continued keeping his eyes away, “I don’t see her very often so an excuse to dismiss it will be unviable.”  
“So go,” Taylor shrugged, grabbing another tissue as he wondered what it would mean for him.  
He already figured he’d be spending the day gagged, but aside from completely supervised weekends this had only been the first day of reprieve.   
“I don’t want to leave you,” Fenton frowned, “not on such a special day. For what is special for you, as well.”  
“I can’t tell you what to do,” Taylor was at a loss, “you’ve made that very clear. You need to sort it out for yourself.”  
He began to fidget with the cuffs, waiting for Fenton to actually leave.  
“But if I’m not with my loved ones… I don’t see how it will be anyhow,” he realised.  
“Does it hold no religious significance?” Fenton’s eyes narrowed.  
“Of course it does,” Taylor agreed, “but that I could cover anywhere. I don’t have to be home.”  
“Good,” Fenton nodded to himself before continuing up the stairs, “we’ll start there.”  
Taylor frowned to himself as the door closed, wondering what he meant by that. Instead of dwelling on it he made the move to shift to the end of the bed so that he could make a start on the soup. It had been a while since he’d had the last bite he’d taken of his breakfast and he knew his stomach could do with something in it.  
He couldn’t smell it but he could see that it was chicken with a few vegetables mixed in. It would overall probably be one of the more healthy options he’d had since being there.   
Once he’d started he found it was a lot easier to swallow than anything else – the warmth probably helping a lot too. Before he knew it most of it was gone.  
Drinking the warm soup quickly reminded of him of how much he was already missing coffee as well. He was sure he’d been through caffeine withdrawals in the first week but they seemed to have died out since then. He honestly hadn’t known he could live without it.  
His time with Fenton was teaching him a lot about what he could and couldn’t live without.  
For the first time once he’d finished the soup he found himself able to breathe through his nose again, but it didn’t last very long. He was soon once again huddled in the bedcovers and trying to find some more sleep.  
Fenton didn’t bother him again until later that night when he returned with more soup for Taylor’s dinner. He barely said a word as he replaced the bowls, made sure Taylor took his medication, and then left again nearly as soon. Taylor was still trying to work his way through the second bowl of soup when the lights went out at roughly 9pm.


	37. Chapter 37

The next few days saw a vast improvement in Taylor’s health, though it didn’t feel fast to him by any means. By the weekend he was able to breathe easy again and he took the chance on Saturday of trying to yell for help. It wasn’t heeded, but at least Eric hadn’t been about to walk through the door.  
Of course when Fenton returned from work he immediately realised Taylor’s ability to breathe uninhibited had returned. Taylor knew this meant the gag would also return, but he was soon distracted from the prospect with what Fenton brought downstairs with him.  
“It isn’t much, but it’s all I could think of for now,” Fenton almost looked as if he felt he was letting him down.  
He made his way to the bed where Taylor was sitting and set the items down. Taylor saw a catalogue, two highlighters, a notepad and a calculator.  
“What’s it for?” he was confused already.  
“You told me the other day you wanted something to do with your time,” Fenton reminded him, “I’d like you to work out our grocery budget.”  
Taylor frowned at that, looking down at the catalogue. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting but this certainly hadn’t been it.  
“You want me to… what?” he wasn’t sure, “how do I know what you have to spend, or what you even need?”  
“This,” Fenton tapped the notepad with his finger.  
He took it from the bed and opened it to the first page. A list had been written out in black pen.  
“These are the items we need. I want you to find the cheapest option unless I’ve specified a brand name. If you come in well under budget you can add something of your choice when it’s done.”  
Taylor looked up in surprise at that. The first thing that came to mind was – sadly – coffee.  
“How long do I have?” he asked.  
“I’d like it done by morning,” Fenton was beginning to talk as if he were speaking to a student in class, “how long will you need?”  
“I don’t know, it’s been a while,” Taylor frowned, immediately regretting how he’d worded it, “I’ll see what I can do.”  
Fenton nodded before heading toward the pails on the other side of the bed.  
“Can I have a pen?” Taylor asked as he took up one of the highlighters, “to do the sums with?”  
“No,” Fenton replied, “Eric mentioned a pen as being one of the items you shouldn’t have access to.”  
Taylor frowned again at that, wondering why Eric would forbid such a thing. In the end he shook his head and decided to focus on the task at hand. As Fenton left the basement he took a quick look at the list – they all seemed pretty standard groceries, consisting mostly of recognisable ingredients for the meals he’d been having – before opening the catalogue.  
He was sure prices had already gone up since he’d last been to the store, but it was also a catalogue for one that he didn’t frequent. The thought crossed his mind to check for an address to try and figure out what county Fenton lived in but it turned out to be a generic flyer for the store chain.  
By the time Fenton returned with fresh pails Taylor had already found the cheaper options for the first five items on the list. He was already glad for the distraction so that he had an excuse to neither make nor avoid eye contact with his captor.  
“Slow down,” he heard the frown in Fenton’s voice without having to look for it, “I don’t have anything else for you yet.”  
“Sorry,” Taylor scratched at his head as he checked the next item on the list, resisting the urge to say ‘I told you so’.  
He kept his eyes down as Fenton once again left the basement, heading for the kitchen to plate up his Saturday night takeout. The moment he was out of sight Taylor got back to work. When he heard him bringing the food down he quickly set everything aside to make room, knowing Fenton wouldn’t want the distraction himself.  
“I figure some greasy Chinese food should slide down easily enough,” Fenton passed him a bowl before taking his usual seat on the chair.  
Taylor looked it over first, using the fork to play with it a little. It had become habit as he constantly feared Fenton might drug his food, as many times as he told himself the doctor would prefer to do it intravenously.  
“You seem to be a lot better today,” Fenton finally voice his observation as he began to eat.  
“I am,” Taylor agreed, fighting an internal debate.  
He still wasn’t comfortable eating in front of Fenton but again he was very hungry.   
“That’s good,” Fenton nodded, “you’ll be back to yourself in no time.”  
 _No I won’t,_ Taylor instantly thought, starting to realise he’d probably never truly be ‘himself’ ever again.  
“Hope so,” he said aloud, deciding to go for it and starting to eat.  
“Are you back to doing your exercises?” Fenton checked.  
“Sort of,” Taylor admitted, knowing he was referring to stretches Fenton had insisted he do to keep up the strength in his leg for when his ankle healed, “not the last few days… but today I did some.”  
“That’s good,” Fenton repeated.  
There was a long moment of silence as Fenton paused just to watch him eat. The action made Taylor slow down, even trying to stop himself but finding it harder than it had been to get started.  
“What are the plans for the weekend?” he thought to ask, trying to divert attention, “or your weekend, I guess.”  
“Well…” Fenton considered, “I’ll get the groceries in tomorrow… then I guess we’ll see what happens.”  
Taylor knew what that meant, and he was finally able to stop eating.  
“I’ll have you bathed tomorrow as well,” Fenton promised, “it will help make you feel better.”  
Taylor doubted that less than he had in the past already. They’d been through the process three times now so he knew what to expect, and now he just wanted to be clean.  
“I’ve also been meaning to speak with you about your hair.”  
“What about it?” that made Taylor look up with a frown.  
“You have a lot of it,” Fenton looked more concerned than anything else, “and I know that it hurts you.”  
Taylor’s face immediately flushed red when he realised Fenton wasn’t talking about the hair on his head.   
“I’d like to take care of it for you. We can do it tomorrow night, after your bath.”  
Taylor just nodded, knowing he wouldn’t have a choice in the matter. And just like that he already felt violated once again.  
“Good,” Fenton sat back into the chair again, “we’ll have a quiet night and worry about it all tomorrow.”  
Taylor held back a sigh of relief at the words ‘quiet night’, knowing it was probably just so he could finish going through the catalogue. Which was precisely what he got back to the moment Fenton left the basement after dinner.


	38. Chapter 38

Taylor jolted awake when the light came on the following morning. It was the first Saturday night that Fenton had slept upstairs, and Taylor had made the most of it by getting some decent sleep as soon as he’d finished what he’d been doing.  
As Fenton descended the stairs he suddenly remembered what he’d done by the light from the television and slid his cast under the bed sheets.  
“Good morning,” Fenton greeted as Taylor pushed himself up, “how are you feeling this morning?”  
Taylor rubbed at his eyes as he took a moment to judge.  
“Better, I think,” he squinted as Fenton came to the bed.  
He saw him look down at the chair, toward where Taylor had left the stationery.   
“It’s done,” Taylor assured, not sure if Fenton could tell.  
“Good,” Fenton stooped to collect everything.  
He gave the list a quick once-over before checking through the catalogue. Taylor wasn’t awake enough to register when he frowned.  
“Some of these aren’t the cheaper options,” Fenton gave him a stern look.  
“Did you want cheap or did you want effective?” Taylor looked across at him, “sometimes the cheaper options don’t work. They wouldn’t be worth getting.”  
When Fenton’s frown didn’t waver, Taylor sighed.  
“You’re still under budget,” he assured, “I checked everything over multiple times.”  
He waited as Fenton went over them again, double checking what he’d done.  
“Are you having money problems?” he asked, not sure if Fenton would humour him on the subject or not.  
If so, it also might have counted as a trigger toward his current situation.  
“Not yet,” Fenton surprisingly responded, “but it appears it might be headed that way.”  
Taylor thought that over, doing some quick calculations in his head.  
“Is having me here costing you that much?” he tried to hint, “is this something you can’t afford to keep up?”  
“It changes nothing,” Fenton assured, “I just need to be more careful.”  
He gathered everything again and took it back to the stairs.   
“I’ll return with breakfast before I go,” he assured as he left the basement.  
Taylor’s mind raced, trying to think of a way to use what he’d just learned to his advantage. If Fenton couldn’t afford to keep him prisoner, he was going to have to face up to it eventually. He didn’t come across as the type to concede defeat and lower his lifestyle, so if he was already having trouble… this was going to be a problem soon.  
When Fenton returned with breakfast Taylor already had an idea, but he wasn’t sure how to word it without Fenton recognising the intent behind it. So he kept quiet.  
Fenton left him a bowl of cereal on the chair before moving across to the rack. Gritting his teeth when he realised he’d have to move to get to it, Taylor gingerly moved the sheets aside and scooted to the edge of the bed. Before he could take his first bite he saw that Fenton had retrieved the muzzle gag.  
Realising they were already getting back to their normal schedule, he tried to eat fast.  
“What’s on your cast?”  
Taylor had been dreading this moment. He hadn’t been sure of what Fenton’s reaction might have been and had been hoping to delay him finding out. He forced himself to stay still as Fenton stepped across to inspect it.  
“Is that highlighter?” Fenton frowned, leaning over slightly.  
“Yeah,” Taylor saw no reason to skirt around it, “I told you I was bored.”  
Fenton took some time to look it over – Taylor continuing to eat as he did.   
“Is there a problem with it?” he had to ask eventually.  
“No,” Fenton surprised him again, “I just… forgot.”  
“Forgot what?” Taylor frowned.  
“That your artistry is a creature all on its own.”  
Taylor hesitated at that. He understood what Fenton meant, but the way he’d said it had somehow creeped him out. When Fenton moved again he continued eating.  
“I’ll see what I can do about helping you pacify it,” Fenton threw the gag onto the bed beside him.  
Taylor held back a groan, wondering instead what he meant by that. He wasn’t expecting anything great considering the evident lack of funds Fenton had at his disposal, and that his first real chore in weeks had been to make a grocery list.  
“Put it on,” Fenton instructed.  
“But I haven’t finished,” Taylor frowned.  
“You have for now,” Fenton insisted, “I need to get going.”  
Taylor paused, before quickly lifting the bowl to his lips and skolling the rest. Fenton took the bowl when he was done as Taylor obediently reached for the mask.  
“I wouldn’t make a habit of that,” Fenton insisted, “it might make you sick.”  
“I used to do it with alcohol, I don’t think breakfast is going to hurt,” Taylor muttered before doing as asked.  
Fenton reached over to check that the locks were secure before backing away satisfied.  
Taylor turned his attention to CNN as Fenton once again left the basement. Once the door closed behind him he gently ran his fingertips down his right jaw, already having to try and get used to its forced position again.  
Every story on CNN now had snow, and he knew it must have been piling up outside. He hadn’t seen daylight for a couple of days and rather than assuming it had just been dark out he’d seen the tell-tale signs of water seeping in from under the air conditioner. Snow had been blocking the outside light.  
Of course this meant it was only getting closer to Christmas. They were already predicting the last few crazy shopping days in the major cities, and like hitting a brick wall Taylor suddenly realised it was only three days away.  
Instead of focusing on not being with his family, he’d been trying instead to focus on what Christmas with Fenton might mean. He’d mentioned something about focusing on the religious aspect of the holiday, but Taylor couldn’t see what the man could really offer him down here.   
That he might spend the holiday in OKC had actually given Taylor some hope that he might be left alone in time for carollers or the like to come visiting. The mailman so far hadn’t responded to his calls (or who he assumed was the mailman, the front door clattered at about the same time every afternoon) and neither had anyone heard him at the time of day kids usually left school. With or without the gag.  
He kept thinking that if only he could get closer to the air conditioner, things might work out differently. But for now with the snow coverage it probably didn’t matter.  
He’d have to bide his time and wait for the snow to melt. If that meant dealing with Fenton until winter was over, so be it. But he was certainly not going to give up altogether.


	39. Chapter 39

Fenton’s ideas when it came to hair removal turned out to be the most painful option Taylor could fathom. Rather than take to him with a razor – as Taylor had expected – Fenton had opted for wax.  
And he covered everywhere.  
Taylor couldn’t even direct him as to what would be less painful as Fenton had left him gagged the entire time, probably to save his ears. The ordeal lasted near on an hour before Fenton finally let Taylor down, and when he was able to reach the bed he found he was far too tender to sit down.  
Unfortunately Fenton took him leaning over the bed as an invitation and raped him then and there. When it was over Taylor collapsed down onto his stomach, the pain no longer his main issue.  
The rest of the weekend returned to normal. If Fenton had procured the coffee Taylor had asked for, he didn’t offer it to him. Fenton returned to work as usual on the following Tuesday for Christmas Eve, but he made it home even earlier than his usual time. Taylor soon found out why.  
It was a bit of a struggle, but Fenton managed to get a small fold-up table, a second chair and a plastic bag down the stairs. Taylor couldn’t ask what he was doing so he just watched on in silence as Fenton set them up on the rug. From the bag he pulled a holly-themed tablecloth, and Taylor cottoned on to what he was doing. Once he had the table set up he gave Taylor a glance as if to quickly check him over before disappearing upstairs again.  
Taylor watched after him, waiting until he was out of sight. Once he was he untangled himself from the bed sheets and scooted himself to the edge of the bed. Fenton had left the bag down on the other side of the table – well out of reach – but Taylor could tell even from this distance that it contained nothing that would help him.   
Fenton soon returned with tableware which was for the most part plastic. Taylor’s eyes followed him as he set the table, in a way almost reminiscent of a couples’ picnic table. If it had been Natalie in Fenton’s place, it might have been cute.  
The thought bringing Natalie to mind made his eyes lower and not for the first time that day he wondered what her night would hold.  
He was pulled from his thoughts when Fenton finally came to release the gag. Taylor wondered vaguely why he hadn’t done it straight away, but with the coming few days being so significant he was trying to tread carefully with what he said. Maybe if he ‘behaved’ Fenton would actually relent and let him contact them.  
He could still dream.  
“Still breathing okay?” Fenton asked as he took it away.  
“Yes,” Taylor nodded before having to clear his throat.  
He reached over for one of his water bottles and quickly had a drink. That done he returned his attention to the table setting.  
“What’s going on?” he had to ask.  
“I’ll be leaving early tomorrow morning for Oklahoma City,” Fenton replied as he fidgeted with the rack, “I don’t expect to be home until late.”  
Taylor held back a sigh of relief, knowing it wasn’t all good news.  
“Okay…” he nodded.  
“So,” Fenton turned to indicate the table, “this will be our Christmas.”  
Taylor eyed the chain he’d picked up, knowing it was the longer one Fenton used on his ankle.  
“Dinner,” Fenton corrected himself.  
“But it’s early,” Taylor was cautious, crossing his wrists awkwardly.  
“I still have some things to ready,” Fenton assured, making his way to the end of the bed.  
He locked the end of the longer chain to the other side, before kneeling to secure it to Taylor’s ankle. Taylor didn’t bother moving. The longer chain was almost starting to feel like a reward in itself.  
“Are you hungry?” he asked when he was done, “dinner may be a while.”  
“Sure,” Taylor frowned at the odd offer.  
Fenton left the smaller chain attached when he left the basement again. He apparently wasn’t ready for Taylor to approach the table yet even just to have a look. So Taylor was forced to just wait, as he always did, while turning his attention to CNN again. When Fenton returned he held a plastic container in his arms, and when he made it downstairs Taylor could see the container was full of sugar cookies.  
“What-?” he was surprised, backing himself onto the bed a little.  
Fenton set them down beside him and turned to leave again.  
“Not too many or you’ll spoil your dinner,” he insisted.  
Taylor watched after him in surprise. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d had anything with sugar in it. Before Fenton even disappeared he’d dug into his first.  
Before their usual dinnertime came around Taylor could smell the meat cooking through the open basement door. He could tell straight off that it was turkey and that Fenton had done it well. He wasn’t sure if he was surprised or not, considering the range of meals he’d had here so far.   
Fenton finished setting the table and brought down their meals – complete with a bottle of Mmmhops for Taylor and a bottle of red wine for himself – before moving over to fetch the key from the television. Taylor sat up apprehensively as he waited, suddenly the hungriest he’d felt in a long time. Once Fenton had the chain unlocked Taylor stood almost straight away and Fenton helped him over to the nearest chair.  
“Comfortable?” he checked before leaving his side.  
“Sure,” Taylor gave him a glance before returning his eyes to the spread.  
Turkey with mash and gravy. Pumpkin pie to the side. Pickled beets. A small Christmas pudding. Fenton had certainly gone all out.   
“Would you like to say grace?” Fenton offered, breaking Taylor’s stare.  
“Grace?” Taylor wasn’t sure he heard right.  
“If you’d like,” Fenton nodded, resting his elbows on the table and clasping his hands in preparation.  
Taylor hesitated, caught off guard. He hadn’t pegged Fenton as a religious man by any means, but it reminded him of Fenton’s earlier mention of making their Christmas more about the religious aspect. Knowing he was probably only doing it for Taylor’s benefit, Taylor slowly shook his head.  
“I don’t think so,” he said softly, unsure if it would provoke a reaction.  
“Okay,” Fenton sat back, “then let’s eat.”  
Taylor paused with his eyes closed for a moment, conscious of the cold metal against his skin from both the ankle chain and the handcuffs, and silently said his own mental prayer. For Natalie’s safety, for the children’s forgiveness, and for them all to sleep peacefully that night. Taylor’s eyes opened when Fenton’s cutlery hit his plate and he quickly shook himself off, knowing that if he cried it certainly would provoke an unwanted reaction from Fenton.  
The hunger was still there so he didn’t wait any longer to dig in. The servings weren’t large so he certainly partook of his fair share. He was even able to mostly ignore Fenton’s stares even while struggling with the cuffs while trying to use the knife and fork.  
Washing it all down with Mmmhops was the most satisfying thing. Fenton finished long before Taylor did, and sat back enjoying his wine while he caught up with the news.


	40. Chapter 40

Christmas Eve was a ‘quiet night’ and Taylor was grateful. Fenton evidently wanted an early night for his journey in the morning, but the night didn’t end with dinner.  
For the first time since Taylor arrived, Fenton changed the television channel. At first it almost hurt Taylor’s ears for the familiar drone to suddenly leave and he worried that he might have to become accustomed to an entirely new entertainment routine, but he soon realised Fenton had turned on one of the Christmas carol specials and was settling himself in to watch.  
Unsure of what Fenton expected him to do in the meantime, Taylor sat awkwardly at the table for a few minutes before deciding his back was hurting too much and opting to try and return to the bed on his own. At his movement Fenton cleared his throat.  
“Come here,” he beckoned with two fingers.  
Taylor hesitated, wondering what he meant. He couldn’t really get much closer to begin with.  
“Where?” he tried to clarify.  
“Here,” Fenton indicated beside his chair.  
Taylor’s brow furrowed as he wondered what the man could possibly want. He didn’t look like he was getting ready to move, and he’d promised him a quiet night. A curious look from Fenton broke his trance and he leant over to the bed to grab the edge and use it to balance himself as he worked his way slowly around the table.  
“Sit,” Fenton indicated the floor beside his chair.  
Taylor looked up at the television sets, now able to see both screens for only the second time. Fenton’s chair was seated just so he had a perfect view of both. Taylor had to use the end of the stair rail to help him down but he soon found himself on the floor beside the chair and trying to position the casts so he was at least somewhat comfortable.  
Even the rug was cold.  
Taylor stiffened when he felt Fenton’s hand on his head. Usually as a pacifying measure – since Eric forced him to wear the muzzle gag for the second time – it immediately put him on edge. He couldn’t see an immediate reason to need to be calmed.  
“I know tomorrow will be an important day for you, and I’m sorry I can’t be here,” Fenton began softly as his fingertips massaged Taylor’s scalp.  
Taylor gulped slightly, not sure where he was going. He presumed he was going to try and have another heart to heart but Taylor was more concerned with what his hand was doing.  
“I’ll try not to be too late home,” he sighed, “but my sister will expect me to at least stay for dessert.”  
“It’s okay,” Taylor felt the need to reassure him.  
“No, it isn’t,” he could hear the frown in his voice, “you’re here because of me. In return I should be here for you.”  
Taylor wanted to insist that a day away from Fenton would be a gift in itself but he wasn’t sure he’d get the desired reaction. So he remained quiet.   
“Why did you ever humour Tinted Windows?” he asked suddenly, fingers not pausing in their movements.  
“What do you mean?” Taylor frowned, eyes going to the second television screen that was showing the video for _Kind of a Girl_ on mute.  
“What did your brothers think?” Fenton seemed intrigued more than anything else, “they must have felt as if it were a form of abandon.”  
Taylor’s frown only deepened, though he knew the idea had certainly circulated. It wasn’t necessarily something he thought he’d ever have to defend to Fenton.  
“Taylor?”  
“I’m not defined by them,” he replied softly, turning his eyes away from the screen but keeping his head still under Fenton’s hand.  
“Sorry?”  
“I’m not defined by my brothers,” he said a little louder, “we’re three different people. I don’t need their permission to do anything unrelated to our joint companies.”  
He froze when Fenton paused. He was already beginning to wish he was back on the short chain so he didn’t have to be at the doctor’s side like some kind of lap dog.  
“You’re defensive about it,” he stated.  
“It’s not the first time I’ve been asked,” he covered quickly, “but I’m used to people making assumptions about me.”  
His cuffed hands shot to his head when he felt Fenton take a grip on his hair. It wasn’t hard but it was enough to shock him.  
“I didn’t mean you!” his voice broke.  
“Calm down,” Fenton insisted, letting him go at Taylor’s touch and patiently waiting as he ducked away, “I was not accusing you of anything.”  
Taylor paused to take deep breaths before looking back and realising Fenton was waiting for him to return. He took a glance up at the basement door before shifting himself back over. Fenton’s fingertips slid through his hair again as if nothing had interrupted.  
They sat in silence through _Good King Wenceslas_ , Fenton taking another sip of his wine. When the song ended and the performers began to speak, Fenton sighed and leant forward a little.  
“You’ll sing for me, won’t you Taylor?” he asked pointedly, “that shouldn’t be too hard for you.”  
“You want me to sing for you?” Taylor winced a little.  
“I admit I’m not immune to your voice being one of your most attractive features,” Fenton made him blush, “so if you would care to indulge me… I’d be very grateful.”  
Taylor’s brow furrowed as his eyes returned to the television. He wasn’t all that sure he could work up the nerve in time to keep Fenton happy.   
“I do on occasion still listen to _Snowed In_ ,” Fenton went on, “I’ve often wondered why you haven’t recorded anything more recent beyond a few fan club jingles.”  
“You’re in the fan club?” Taylor instantly frowned.  
“Don’t you think people would have appreciated more than the same twelve songs after all these years?”  
Taylor rolled his eyes, knowing he wouldn’t get his answers. Knowing he had to at least try to comply he worked to clear his mind and focus on the carol special.  
“What’s coming up?” he asked eventually.  
“Holy Night,” Fenton replied instantly.  
Taylor nodded to himself, figuring he could at least work with that. He began fidgeting with his fingers as he psyched himself up. His time ran out quickly as the song launched as soon as the commercials ended.  
“ _O Holy Night, the stars are brightly shining, it is the night of our dear saviour’s birth…_ ”  
His voice shook with the words and Fenton noticed. His fingers continued to slowly caress Taylor’s hair and Taylor closed his eyes to concentrate on calming himself.  
“ _Long lay the world in sin and error pining, ’til he appeared and the spirit felt its worth…_ ”


	41. Chapter 41

Taylor waited patiently as Fenton cleaned up the following morning. He’d made an early start so that he could leave for his sister’s as soon as possible. He’d spent the night in the bed with Taylor but it had purely been to sleep, and while it had taken some time Taylor had actually gotten some good sleep. His plan was to spend the day brainstorming ideas to get himself out of the basement, even if it were just into the house.  
He was having a drink of water when he heard a commotion upstairs. Fenton had been going up and down since long before the sun had been due to come up but he hadn’t made all that much noise. When Taylor looked up he saw Fenton struggling to get some sort of wooden frame through the doorway.  
Curiosity peaked, Taylor kept his eye on it. Fenton struggled to get it down – almost losing it over the side with no railing – before finally managing to get it to the floor and starting to set it up. As he pulled it together Taylor’s eyes widened.  
“Is that…?”  
“It’s for you,” Fenton stood back when he’d finished.  
He turned to head back up the stairs, leaving Taylor to watch after him confused. Once he was gone Taylor used the chair to pull himself up from the bed and hop over to take a closer look. It wasn’t long before Fenton returned with a large board.  
“Why?” Taylor asked before he was even halfway down.  
“Why?” Fenton repeated, waiting until he got to the bottom to properly respond, “it’s Christmas, Taylor. This is what we do.”  
“But I don’t have anything for you,” Taylor looked worried.  
Fenton paused after setting the board on the frame and turned to look him in the eye.  
“Yes you do,” he assured.  
Taylor blushed at that, dipping his head as Fenton headed up the stairs again. When he was gone Taylor stepped closer, this time grabbing onto the stair rail to steady himself as he looked the easel over.  
If Fenton was expecting him to paint, he’d have to give him the tools to do it with…  
As if on cue Fenton appeared with a case similar to the one he kept his medical equipment in but larger in size. He brought it down to the chair, set it on the seat, and clicked it open. It contained some paper plates, some tubes of primary and secondary coloured paint, and finally – some brushes.  
“This should keep you occupied for a time,” Fenton took a quick glance at his watch.  
“For sure,” Taylor was convinced he felt more excited about this than he should, “but… is it just for today?”  
“No,” Fenton assured, “but I won’t be able to afford a new canvas every week. So disperse your work accordingly.”  
“Yes Sir,” Taylor nodded, eyeing the brushes already from where he remained clinging to the stair rail.  
Fenton walked over to the rack to retrieve the muzzle gag from where he’d left it the afternoon before. When he returned Taylor eyed it, just waiting for him to put it on.  
“You don’t have to call me Sir,” he frowned as he undid the straps.  
“No?” Taylor’s eyebrows rose, wondering not for the first time exactly what Fenton might want him to call him.  
“No,” Fenton affirmed, “James is fine.”  
For some reason Taylor felt relieved at that. But he already wasn’t sure that he wanted to converse on such a personal level. A first name basis made the situation seem less dire.  
“I think Doctor Fenton is fine,” he assured just before Fenton was about to set the gag in place.  
It made him pause.  
“You don’t have to be formal,” he looked confused, “no one will hear it.”  
“I just think making it informal implies a sense of free will,” Taylor barely breathed as he spoke, knowing he was risking retaliation.  
As expected, Fenton frowned at that. But he said nothing.  
“Very well,” he went ahead and slid the gag over Taylor’s head.  
Taylor remained still until he had it locked, then waited as he moved the easel onto the tarp. As long as his punishment wouldn’t be that it was taken away it was a good sign that he’d get to keep the long chain for the day. Thankfully Fenton did nothing else before leaving the basement.  
Taylor waited to be sure he was actually leaving. With the snow piled up around the air conditioner the sound of Fenton’s car was barely a faint rumble, but to a trained ear he could still make it out.   
As soon as the car was gone Taylor pulled himself over to the chair again to inspect the case. He could see the handles of the brushes were lacquered wood and tied with a metallic ring. It looked far too wide to use to pick locks but he immediately began weighing up whether he’d be able to mould it into something he could use through bending or breaking it.  
Knowing it would take too long he knelt to check the lining of the case itself. It looked like aluminium but felt like plastic to the touch. Taylor was convinced if he attempted anything with it, it would simply crack.  
He closed the case up and set it on the floor before using the chair to pull himself up again. He’d been using it as a sort of walker ever since his left toe had been broken, enabling him to keep his balance while upright. His next point of order was to take advantage of the longer chain.  
He hadn’t had much luck with the cabinets to the left and the chain was still not long enough to reach the television sets. So he headed for the air conditioner.   
Because the chain was anchored to the wrong side of the bed this time he couldn’t make it as far as he had in the past. He managed to set the chair in the middle of the floor and just reach far enough to touch the wall with his fingertips. Sliding them down the crack where sunlight used to shine through his suspicions were confirmed – all he could feel was solid ice.  
He was pulled from the realisation by a noise upstairs. Pausing to make sure he’d heard what he heard (what he thought had been a knock at the door) he soon heard the creak of an interior door.  
Knowing that yelling through the gag would be useless, he used the chair to pull himself back to the staircase. It didn’t take long for him to realise the footsteps overhead were making their way almost directly to the basement door.  
He knew he wouldn’t get back to the bed in time, so he pulled the chain as far around as he could before setting the chair between he and the end of the stairs. In the process he fell to a knee and then onto his backside before pushing himself as far along the wall as he could. The bolts on the door didn’t take long to open and when the door followed suit Taylor closed his eyes.  
He heard the door close again behind him and his footsteps begin down after a short pause. Taylor tried to concentrate on his breathing as he drew closer, only stopping when he’d reached the floor.  
At the moment of silence that followed Taylor cautiously opened his eyes. Eric was looking down on him from the other side of the chair.  
“Merry Christmas Taylor,” he greeted with a short smile, “I find myself with some free time this morning. I don’t suppose you’d care to sing for me too?”


	42. Chapter 42

Taylor’s hands had nothing to grab as Eric used the chain to violently drag him back into the open room. The chair had already been set aside out of reach, but Taylor still tried to grab for it on the way past. Anything he could get his hands on would have helped.  
Eric dumped him at the end of the staircase before stepping over his body and reaching down for his hands. Taylor quickly tried to roll over onto them but he was in too awkward of a position and Eric easily grabbed the cuffs.   
“Don’t make this harder than it has to be,” Eric scorned, using the weight to drag Taylor up to his knees.  
When Taylor saw what he was doing he could only groan through the gag. He’d pulled the chain from the pulley down and managed to yank Taylor’s arms higher so he could lock the handcuff links to it with a padlock he’d evidently supplied himself.  
Taylor yelped as the pulley suddenly brought him to his feet, his left heel just lifting from the ground. Not trusting Eric enough to close his eyes he set to concentrating on catching his breath.  
“Toe can’t be hurting you too much,” Eric mused as he stepped back, “surely you wouldn’t be standing on it otherwise.”  
Unable to retort that the pain was in fact shooting up his leg but that he didn’t have a choice, Taylor could only stare back at him. When Eric suddenly reached out for his head he tried to flinch backward to no avail.  
Eric took hold of the side of the gag and Taylor realised he was inspecting the padlock.  
“That’s unfortunate,” he said aloud before clicking his tongue, “Jim must have the keys with him. Would be a shame if he were in a car accident on the way, don’t you think?”  
He smirked to himself as he let go, causing Taylor to lose balance and hang from his wrists until he found his footing again. The idea of Fenton possibly not making it home was already giving him goose bumps. Eric spoke as if he almost intended it to happen.  
Taylor’s eyes followed him to the rack and his breathing immediately heavied. With Eric’s back to him he couldn’t see what he was doing but he was certainly happy to take his time. The familiar jingle of chains gave him a hint but that was all.  
“Let’s see…” Eric spoke aloud to himself as he worked, “let’s lock this together… and voila.”  
Whatever it was he set it back on the rack before turning around. Seeing that he was empty handed, Taylor frowned as he made his way back to his side. He began to brace himself for an unexpected punch or two.  
“I see Jim took a few of my suggestions on board,” Eric was still talking to himself, this time trailing a finger down Taylor’s underarm and giving the nook a pat where there used to be hair.  
Taylor closed his eyes as he grimaced. Of course it had to have been Eric’s idea. Fenton probably would have shaved him otherwise and saved the torment.  
His eyes opened again as Eric stepped around him and he tried to twist himself to see where he was. A hand on his arm stopped him and Taylor grunted into the gag.  
“Let’s see what all the fuss is about then, shall we?” Eric’s voice came over his shoulder.  
And then Taylor heard the sound of a belt buckle being undone.   
“ _NO! No, no, no!_ ” he cried into the gag as his left foot scrambled to try and give himself more leverage.  
But as with everything else, Eric was quick. He seemed to struggle for a moment with Taylor’s height in comparison to his own, but the end result was the same. He went in.  
And he was bigger than Fenton.  
Taylor’s fists clenched as he pulled down on his wrists, desperate for any kind of leeway. He got none. Eric was slower as he worked his way in, his hands keeping a strong hold on Taylor’s hips to prevent him moving far. It wasn’t long before Taylor gave in and ceased to struggle, just wanting it to be over and done with.  
With an appreciative groan, it wasn’t long before Eric pulled away. Taylor was left to hang by the wrists as he attempted to catch his breath, tears fogging his eyes as the pangs of helplessness suddenly returned in a deep wave.   
He heard Eric doing his pants up again but the man remained standing behind him. He could feel something warm running down between his legs but he couldn’t tell which bodily fluid it was – he couldn’t see anything from his position.  
“Messy,” Eric commented, giving him a slap on the cheek.  
Taylor only grunted in response as the tears actually started to fall. Eric finally stepped around to his side and the next thing Taylor knew his hands were free. Taken by surprise at the release of the chain he collapsed forward onto his knees and fell onto his left hip. From there his head fell into his arms as he struggled to try and pull himself together.  
“Are those tears I hear?” Eric smirked as he returned to the rack.  
Taylor didn’t bother to look up as he heard him retrieve the chains he’d prepared earlier. It seemed the more he tried to control himself the more tears that fell. He could see both red and white on his inside leg and knew straight away that he’d bled again.  
“Look up,” Eric demanded, coming to stand in front of the crumpled heap.  
Taylor clenched his fists again as he tried to force his breathing to steady first. He wasn’t able to before he felt a sharp kick in his side. With a yelp he forced himself to lean up on his hands so he could look up at Eric.  
What he saw in his hands just plain took his breath away.  
“Do you know what this is?” Eric asked curiously, holding the offending implement out to show it off.  
Taylor quickly pulled his left leg under himself, ready to use it to push himself away if he had to. He knew he needed to fight this for all he was worth and not let Eric get the upper hand again.  
“I need to head on home for a while. Family matters to tend to and all,” Eric looked it over as he spoke, “but this should keep you occupied until I return I’d think.”  
Taylor just started shaking his head, willing his eyes not to fog up again in case he missed Eric coming for him. When Eric took a step forward he quickly fell onto his side again and started pushing himself back toward the bed. Eric patiently followed him, knowing he’d eventually be cornered.  
“I won’t be too long,” he assured, “I have to get you back to normal before Jim gets home anyhow.”  
Taylor’s eyes darted to the left as he tried to find something to use in defence. The chair remained on the other side of the room and the pails were out of reach. At his distraction, Eric lunged.  
With a yelp Taylor kicked out, trying to pull himself up onto the bed where he could use height to his advantage. But Eric was quick and simply grabbed him around the waist to wrestle him back to the ground. With his hands still cuffed at the front Taylor couldn’t defend his rear, and as Eric sat on him to hold him down he quickly inserted the stainless steel hook. Taylor cried out as it went in, not bothering to fight back once Eric lifted his weight. A mistake he didn’t realise at first when Eric’s next move was to take hold of the top of the gag. A padlock made sure the chain to the hook was pulled taut, forcing Taylor’s head back at an almost unnatural angle.  
“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Eric was panting a little as he added another lock to the cuffs to hold them to the end of the bed.


	43. Chapter 43

The second the door closed behind Eric, Taylor managed to roll onto his side.  
It was painfully clear that his hands were out of commission. With the handcuffs hooked to the bed where the longer ankle chain used to be he couldn’t pull them back enough to even touch his head. All he had left were his plastered legs.  
Unable to stretch his body to reach any further than he already could, he tried to think of what would be within his range. The pails were too far around the bed and he wouldn’t be able to hook one with the cast. The chair was too far away. The only other option he may have been able to use was the easel.  
He knew he’d have to move to get to it but his neck was already aching and he knew he had to get out of the position as soon as possible. So very precariously, he began shuffling himself to the left in an effort to move his legs closer to it. He let out a relieved groan when he felt his left ankle hit the wooden structure.  
Carefully so as not to tip it over in the wrong direction, he worked his left ankle around the leg while trying to keep in mind where the chain lay in relation. Already praying that he could move it without it falling, he carefully began to pull back. The easel scraped along the ground and almost tipped over at least twice but he managed to bring it closer to his body as he tried to judge where he needed it to be.  
When he felt he was ready, he tipped it. It landed just where he’d hoped it would – the top of it near his hands. He first tried to reach to move it with his hands instead of his feet, but the chain was far too short to let him. So he once again twisted his left ankle around one of the wooden legs and tried to manoeuvre the easel so another leg would sit into the arc of the hook.  
It took some time but he managed to get it in place. Knowing what he planned to do was going to hurt his neck even more, he stopped to concentrate and calm himself down before moving again. After a quick countdown he threw his head back as far as it would go and kicked the easel backward, and with a painful thrust the wooden leg suddenly dislodged the hook and sent it clattering to the ground.  
Taylor collapsed forward with a groan as soon as he was able to, already feeling that the ache in his neck wouldn’t go away anytime soon. Still locked down by the handcuffs he knew he wasn’t going anywhere, so he buried his face in his arms and finally let himself cry it out.  
He’d tried not to concentrate on it as it was happening, but now that he’d stopped he couldn’t believe the situation he’d just had to get himself out of.   
He couldn’t believe he’d spent nearly a month locked in someone’s basement. He couldn’t believe that _this was Christmas Day_. It just didn’t make any sense to him.  
It took a long time for him to calm down, and he decided to focus on CNN instead. He knew he wouldn’t get any sleep and he knew Eric would be back. He just didn’t know when. 

*

It was mid-afternoon before Taylor heard footsteps above him again, and he’d already been wondering how Eric could possibly have expected him to last that long in the position that he’d left him. He braced himself to get beaten when Eric found him free, hiding his face in his arms again as he heard the door open.  
He listened closely as the door closed behind him and he stopped at the top of the stairs to presumably look over the rail.  
“My, my…” he muttered to himself, “that’s unfortunate.”  
Taylor already felt his eyes welling up again as Eric began to descend the stairs. He didn’t trust the man not to just return him to where he’d been when he left. Struggling to keep his head down as Eric drew closer, he felt as he went for the locks on the chain holding the hook to the gag and was momentarily relieved when he felt it release.  
The next thing he felt was the steel hook sliding around his throat. Flinching back to try and keep the pressure from his windpipe, Eric forced it under his chin in order to make him look up.  
“You didn’t like my gift, I take it?” his eyes were shining but his expression stern.  
Taylor could only groan in return, trying to twist his head away from it. Eric’s response was to pull back further until Taylor choked. Unable to reach with his hands to pull it back, Taylor was about to resign himself to falling unconscious as Eric had previously threatened when he finally let him go.  
Taylor collapsed forward – the hook still around his throat – as he tried desperately to catch his breath.   
“Well, I _was_ going to release you when I came back, but now…” Eric trailed off as he stepped over to the rack again.  
Once Taylor had his wits back he managed to pull himself forward on his stomach. Once he was close enough he was able to pull the hook back with his left hand and finally cast it aside.  
He did a double take when he caught sight of it again – he didn’t remember it being that big.  
“Now…” Eric caught his attention again, “I guess we need to find something else to occupy our time with.”  
Taylor again couldn’t see what he was doing at the rack. With a bit of difficulty he managed to pull himself up so that he was sitting hunched over, but feeling a bit better about being able to use his legs to defend himself.   
But when Eric stepped away from the rack and pulled something from his belt instead, Taylor lost what little colour he had left.  
“On second thoughts, we could just get down to business,” he mused as he slowly and purposefully made his way back toward the bed.  
Taylor knew he had nowhere to go. He could only wait as Eric made his way to the end of the bed and took a seat where he was obviously close enough to reach him.  
The blade of the dagger played over his fingertips tauntingly.  
“I don’t want Jim to know that I was here today, you understand me?” his voice lowered from the usual playful tone all of a sudden.  
Taylor frowned, having to twist his body to keep an eye on the knife.   
“You see, apparently after our last play date he doesn’t want me spending so much time with you,” Eric went on.  
Taylor knew why. It was because of the broken toe.  
“So while he asked me to keep an eye on the house today, he doesn’t know that I’ve seen you. But we can keep that between us… can’t we?”  
He paused to wait for Taylor’s response. When Taylor took longer than expected he shifted on the bed, making Taylor hurriedly nod in confirmation.  
“Good,” Eric didn’t sound all that relieved, “I’d hate to think I’d have to ensure your silence some other way.”  
Taylor frowned again, wondering what he meant by that. As far as he could see it would already be plainly obvious that Taylor hadn’t been alone that day.   
He flinched back when Eric got up to unlock the handcuffs from the bedpost.  
“Stay down,” he ordered, still brandishing the dagger and causing Taylor to freeze, “good boy.”


	44. Chapter 44

It was well after dark when Taylor heard Fenton’s car pull into the driveway. He was almost surprised he heard it over the sound of some neighbours in the distance having a Christmas party, but he’d become so tuned in to the sound it made.  
He’d barely moved from the floor where Eric had left him. Eric had made sure to return everything in the room to how it was – replacing the items he’d used on the rack and righting the easel mainly – and Taylor hadn’t bothered to change anything. He knew he should have been taking advantage of the longer chain while he could as he didn’t know how long he’d have it for, but he’d had to concentrate more on getting his head straight. He’d known Christmas was going to be depressing, but he hadn’t realised how utterly crushing it would be.  
He listened as Fenton made his way into the house and fussed around in the kitchen for a while. When he finally came to the basement door Taylor was still sitting on the floor at the end of the bed just watching CNN.  
Fenton was silent as he stood at the top of the stairs to survey the scene as usual before making his way down. When he made it to the floor Taylor finally gave him a glance. Fenton was looking over the empty easel curiously, scratching at his chin before making his way to the bed. He sat in the same spot that Eric had as he leant over to remove the gag.  
“I thought I might come home to a masterpiece,” he admitted as he carefully undid the locks, “I hope you didn’t run out of time.”  
Taylor waited until the gag was off before shaking his head as he massaged his jaw again. He kept his eyes to the television screen, doubting now what he’d been planning all night to say to Fenton when he got back.  
He took the time to rub his eyes properly, knowing they must have been well and truly red by then.  
“Are you alright?” he heard both the frown and concern in Fenton’s voice.  
Taylor left his hand in his fringe as his mind raced. In the end he decided to just come out with it and get it over with.  
“Eric raped me,” his voice croaked from misuse all day.  
After a pause, Fenton leant forward.  
“Excuse me?” his tone was accusatory.   
“He came over this morning,” Taylor began to elaborate, “and… again this afternoon. He threatened me with a knife. He told me not to tell you.”  
He bit his lip as he wondered how much he should actually say about it. Because he was distracted he was caught by surprise and jumped when Fenton gently slid his fingers through his hair. He quickly closed his eyes and tried to use it to calm himself down as Fenton intended it to.  
“How many times?” Fenton demanded.  
“Just once,” Taylor replied softly, “but it was… hard.”  
He gulped slightly when he registered his choice of words.   
“I bled,” he ducked his head a little, willing himself not to cry again.  
“I’m sorry.”  
Taylor blanched at the apology. He’d never heard it sound so sincere.  
“I have asked Eric not to come here anymore. I know that all he does is hurt people,” he continued running his fingers through Taylor’s hair.  
“He told me,” Taylor admitted, “he said you didn’t want him here so it had to be our little secret.”  
He shook his head.  
“But I’m not keeping any of his secrets. Not now, not ever.”  
“Are you alright physically?” Fenton asked, no hint of worry in his voice.  
“I think so,” Taylor replied, “just a sore neck and…”  
He trailed off, looking over to the rack. He couldn’t bring himself to say it aloud.  
“And what?” Fenton took the hint.  
“He used some things on me,” Taylor made sure he sounded like he didn’t want to talk about it.  
“What things?” came the dreaded question.  
Taylor cringed as he tried not to let the situation overwhelm him again but it was too late. He leant forward and hid his face in his hands as the tears came straight back.  
To his surprise, instead of running for the hills as he usually seemed to do, Fenton gently put a hand on his shoulder and pulled him into his side. He calmly let his thumb massage Taylor’s neck as he waited for him to pull himself together.  
It took a lot longer than he thought it would, and he ended up just falling silent and letting Fenton pet him. It was probably the closest thing he was going to get to a hug and he would have given up everything just to have Natalie’s arms around him in that moment.  
“It’s okay,” Fenton assured after a long moment of just silence, “we can get past this. This is just a momentary setback.”  
“A setback?” Taylor almost choked on the word, “this is my fucking _life_ right now.”  
“Please watch your language,” Fenton scorned, though not as harshly as he could have.  
Taylor rubbed his eyes instead, taking the moment to sit up from Fenton’s knee.   
“I want to know what I did to deserve this,” he let his hands fall to his lap.  
“Nothing,” Fenton frowned.  
“I don’t just mean Eric,” Taylor wouldn’t look up at him, “I mean I want to know… did I do something to egg you on? Did I somehow show interest as a child that I was unaware of? _What did I do_ to make you decide that this was something you would aspire to?”  
“You did nothing,” Fenton insisted.  
“Did you touch me as a child and I just don’t remember?” Taylor frowned.  
“No,” Fenton scorned, more seriously this time, “I did no such thing. I told you, I was willing to wait.”  
“Why didn’t you ever say anything to me?” Taylor’s eyes were darting furiously, “why would you wait so long that you _had_ to restrain me?”  
“Calm down,” Fenton knew it would soon get out of hand if he didn’t quell Taylor’s fear, “there was no logical way for this to happen sooner.”  
Taylor groaned and hid his face in his hands again.  
“You have to remember, Taylor,” Fenton began again, “that regardless of what may have happened in the past and what may have brought you to be here, knowing it will not change anything. You may already be feeling some acute pangs of depression but as I’ve promised before… you will come to accept being here.”  
Taylor began shaking his head again.  
“Perhaps sooner than either of us expected.”  
“No,” Taylor groaned into his hands, “ _no!_ Just tell me why! I need to make sense of this!”  
He yelped as he suddenly felt a blow to the side of his head. It wasn’t hard in comparison to what Eric had dished out, but it was enough to shock him. Holding the side of his face he turned toward Fenton and quickly backed himself up against the staircase.  
“I’m sorry,” Fenton held a hand out to apologise straight away, “and I will make this up to you. But you need to calm down. _Now_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lack of updates on this one. Real life dramas are kicking my ass. Hopefully back to regular updates soon :)


	45. Chapter 45

Taylor waited patiently from where he sat with his back against the wall at the end of the stairs while Fenton fussed around in the house again. It had already been about a half hour since Fenton had struck out at him but Taylor was sure it hadn’t even left a mark.  
On the other hand there was a large bruise forming on his side from Eric’s kick that morning.  
He was just inspecting it when Fenton returned to the basement. It was easily nearing on midnight by now and Taylor was surprised he was even still awake. It wasn’t until he saw the plate of food in his hands that he realised he hadn’t eaten since breakfast.  
“Dinner,” Fenton stated the obvious as he handed it down to him.  
Taylor took it thankfully, seeing straight off that it was leftovers from the night before. He figured they’d be eating leftovers for the next week or so – Fenton had certainly cooked plenty for the two of them.  
He dug in without a word as Fenton went about cleaning up, stifling a yawn or two as he worked. Taylor was mostly waiting to find out if Fenton would be spending the night either downstairs or upstairs but the doctor wasn’t giving any hints.  
When he noticed Taylor was done he took the plate and disappeared into the house again to do the dishes. Taylor took the time alone to move back to the bed, detouring to grab a drink of water before settling himself under the sheets. He remained on his back with his eyes open as he waited for Fenton, unsure if he’d want the company after what had happened earlier.  
They made awkward eye contact when Fenton came to the door, but he soon closed it behind him and made his way down. Taylor grimaced internally and silently berated himself for once again not seeking out the light switch at the bottom of the stairs as Fenton switched it off and made his way to the bed.  
“I’ll need to go to the store tomorrow,” he said softly as he got in beside Taylor, “then I’ll be back to work Friday and Saturday as normal.”  
“What for?” Taylor frowned, keeping his eyes to the ceiling, “we have enough food, don’t we?”  
“Not for groceries,” Fenton confirmed, “but I’ll take advantage of the sales to stock the house while I can afford to.”  
Taylor again wondered about Fenton’s financial trouble. If it really were that bad, it was going to boil over one way or another soon. He hoped it meant Fenton was tightening his timeframe on keeping him there, but he didn’t want to bring it up in case he were wrong.  
“Goodnight Taylor,” Fenton sighed, rolling away from him as he closed his eyes.  
Taylor watched him for a moment to make sure he was actually going to sleep like that before closing his own eyes. After such a long and tiring day he fell asleep before he knew it.

*

Fenton made sure Taylor was fed and watered before leaving for the store early the next day, but he had a surprise for Taylor before he left. After he’d already fitted the muzzle gag he disappeared upstairs for a time before returning with what looked like a card. Taylor waited at the end of the bed as Fenton brought it to him, soon seeing that it was actually a Christmas card.  
Without a word Fenton handed it to him. Taylor opened it curiously, seeing that it was blank. When he looked up again Fenton was holding out a pen.  
“This will be a one-time offer,” Fenton insisted making Taylor’s brow furrow hopefully, “to apologise for last night, though it appeared to work. You may write to your family and I will send it tomorrow.”  
Taylor’s eyes widened, wishing he could ask a million questions straight off the bat. Fenton had obviously gagged him beforehand for this reason. The doctor silently handed him the pen before turning to leave. Taylor waited until the door closed behind him before pushing himself back onto the bed and opening the card.  
His mind raced as he heard Fenton’s car leaving. Now that he finally had the opportunity, he wasn’t all that sure what to say. Did Fenton expect him to assure them he’d be home soon? Did he want him to tell them to stop looking for him?  
Did Fenton want him to say goodbye?  
He felt his eyes tearing up as he thought of so many things to say. So many things he wanted to ask, but knew he wouldn’t get the answers to. He couldn’t tell them anything about where he was or what had happened to him or Fenton might not send it… anything to implicate him would certainly be denied.  
He thought it over again. He had to be smart about this. He was certainly capable of somehow getting a message through, he just had to do it properly.  
He absently tried to adjust the gag before putting the card in his lap and starting to tap the pen against the chain. He was sure he had at least an hour’s grace – possibly more – but he didn’t want to have wasted the opportunity if Fenton came home early.  
He quickly thought a few phrases through in his head. He needed to make sure that Natalie knew this wasn’t his doing, so at the very least they’d continue to look for him. Hopefully first contact would even be a driving force in keeping the investigation alive.  
Maybe contact alone would push them to look into Fenton again. Fenton had never told him if any police interview had gone ahead, but Taylor hadn’t asked. He wasn’t sure he could handle it if Fenton’s lie had been simple and the authorities had just bought it without question.  
With a sigh he tapped the pen against the muzzle a few times before finally putting ink to card.

_Dearest Natalie,_  
 _For weeks now I’ve wondered what my first words would be to you were I able to get through_.  
 _Even if you may not believe it at first, a single day hasn’t gone by without you in my thoughts. I_  
 _never would have left you if I hadn’t been taken against my will, and I hope you already know_  
 _this deep in your heart. I saw on the news that Willa was returned safe and I hope her hand is_  
 _only a minor injury for her and is healing well. I’m not sure what else to say in such a short_  
 _note other than I love you all with all my heart and I hope with everything that I’ll see you soon._

He didn’t feel the need to sign it. Surely they’d recognise his handwriting.  
He read it over a few times to make sure it didn’t sound too bad, and that it didn’t implicate Fenton at all. He couldn’t see any way that the wording would point to him and so he finally closed the card and set it aside.  
He turned his attention to the pen. He remembered Fenton specifically saying that he shouldn’t be given one, but he was never told why. After some follow-up thought on the matter Taylor remembered stories he’d heard of people using pens as weapons, sometimes hitting arteries with them and the like. He’d figured that must have been why Eric had made the rule.  
But now he was second-guessing his conclusion. Moving quickly, he started to pull the pen apart. As he carefully moved his legs to set the individual parts on the bed, he shook the pen to get everything out and then cursed a little to himself.  
The pen didn’t have a spring. He’d been hoping to use it to try and pick the locks.  
With a dejected groan he put it back together and fell back onto the bed to wait for Fenton’s return.


	46. Chapter 46

Fenton only took a couple of hours to return from the store. When he did, one of the first things he did was bring another canvas down into the basement and set it against the side wall by the mirror. Taylor again had forgotten all about the easel and made a mental note to start something the next time Fenton left him alone.  
That done he returned to Taylor’s side, collected the pen and the card, and removed the gag.  
“Thank you,” Taylor said sincerely the moment it was off, “I wasn’t expecting… just, thank you!”  
“I would consider us ‘even’,” Fenton took a quick glance inside the card before heading for the stairs, “I’ll return with lunch shortly.”  
Taylor watched after him, rubbing his face over once he was out of sight. Now he just had to hope that Natalie got the message in the next few days. Hopefully he’d see something about it on CNN before the week was through.  
Fenton spent most of the rest of the day upstairs and out of sight. Taylor could hear him moving things around, fussing in the kitchen, and sometimes talking to himself. With the door left open Taylor thought to see how far he could reach up the stairs with it – mostly in order to see as far into the house as he could. A good few hours had passed before he decided to brave it.  
He fell from the bed to his hands and knees and crawled to the bottom of the staircase. He could hear Fenton in the kitchen and hoped he wouldn’t suddenly decide to come back. Once he made it to the stairs he carefully pulled himself up one by one – making sure the chain didn’t rattle too loudly as he moved.   
As he made it higher he could eventually see more. He’d earlier seen a sort of floral pattern on the wall, and he could now see it was part of the wallpaper with splotches of flowers here and there. The white cabinet to the left of the door he’d also seen before appeared to be a junk cupboard and Taylor had never heard it open. From the bottom of the stairs he could see a tungsten light on the ceiling of the house, but aside from cream-coloured walls that was all he could make out at first.  
It wasn’t anything to get excited about, that was for sure.  
As he pulled himself higher he could already feel the chain tightening. He soon enough realised he was only going to make it about a third of the way. He used his hands to pull his head as far up as he could manage, but it didn’t offer him much more of a view. The door to the basement appeared to be either in a hallway or in between rooms and he could just see into the next room over. He managed to make out what appeared to be graduation certificates framed on the wall before a shadow fell across the doorway and he flinched backward. The next thing he knew Fenton was staring down at him.  
“I wasn’t doing anything,” Taylor insisted straight away, raising his hands in surrender.  
“What are you doing?!” Fenton frowned, seeming to panic a little as he darted forward to take hold of the door.  
“I was just looking!” Taylor insisted, “I’m still chained, I’m not going anywhere. I just wanted a look.”  
Fenton stepped through the door to check over the railing that the chain was still secured to the bed. Satisfied when he saw that it was, he stepped back again.  
“Go back down,” he ordered, before closing the door.  
“Wait!” Taylor called over him, groaning when he was ignored.  
He turned back and sat on the steps for a while, trying to decide if he’d seen into a living room or a study. Not that it mattered if he couldn’t get to it but it was a welcome change of thought pattern for now.  
Sighing dejectedly, he finally worked his way back down the stairs and stopped at the bottom. He looked across at the easel and the paints but couldn’t bring himself to find the inspiration needed to work right now. He knew once he got started that it might help pass the time until Natalie got his letter.  
Dinner came soon after and Taylor had moved from the stairs by then. More leftovers from Christmas Eve. Fenton threw on a couple of the leftover sugar cookies as well which made Taylor wonder if he was already starting to run out. Fenton didn’t join him for dinner and in turn left him alone for most of the night, choosing instead to spend it upstairs. It took Taylor a while to remember that Fenton had to work the next day and was once again glad for a ‘quiet night’ – confirmed when the light went off at about 9pm. It appeared to be Fenton’s favoured curfew.

*

The next day saw them return to a normal schedule. Fenton didn’t say anything about the card, and Taylor didn’t want to ask in case he threw suspicion onto it.   
Saturday was also normal and Taylor began to feel back in the routine already, though Fenton hadn’t assaulted him since Christmas Eve, Eve. He began to wonder if what had happened with Eric might be having any bearing on Fenton’s perfect ideals about having him as his personal prisoner, but if it did Fenton didn’t let it show otherwise.   
As Fenton’s Sunday/Monday weekend came around Taylor found he again spent most his time upstairs. He didn’t know what he was doing but he certainly made a lot of noise doing it. He guessed he might be cleaning up though he wasn’t sure why he’d bother. He didn’t see Fenton letting anyone other than Eric over his house ever again.  
Which gave him an idea. It was around midday on Sunday when Taylor took advantage of the longer chain (which had been in place since Christmas Eve) to have another look around the basement as far as he could go. This time he had his sights set on something in particular.   
Pipes.  
There were none above the bed so he headed to the other side of the staircase. Standing at the end in order to lean on the railing, he looked for where the main gas and water pipes to the house came through. They were mostly situated on the ceiling and seemed to disappear under the top part of the staircase. When Taylor leant forward to try and get a closer look he realised that beyond the locked door already in the staircase (which he’d assumed to be a closet) the wall appeared to be fake. Plywood, painted to look like the basement walls.  
He looked back down at the chain, once again wishing it were longer. But if it had been long enough to reach the pipes it would have also been long enough to reach not only the televisions, but the basement door. He knew Fenton wouldn’t have that.  
He tried to judge if throwing anything at them would dislodge something or cause even minor damage, but he had nothing to throw and he was too far away. Once again defeated by Fenton’s planning, he dejectedly headed back to the bed to sit and watch CNN.   
He almost felt that if it were possible to die from boredom, he would surely soon be its latest victim. If Fenton ignored him for much longer he might as well have just ceased to exist.  
He almost missed the man’s creepiness.  
Almost.  
He wondered if he would do anything for New Years on Tuesday night, and hoped it wasn’t what he was cleaning the house for. If that had been what he’d been doing the past few days upstairs. He still couldn’t see him inviting anyone over other than Eric… but that was what Taylor was afraid of.  
With nothing to do but wait and find out, Taylor sighed to himself and tried to focus on the news.


	47. Chapter 47

When Fenton made it home the Tuesday of New Year’s Eve and brought Taylor down his lunch, Taylor finally bit the bullet.  
“What have you been doing up there?” he frowned as he took the plate.  
“Cleaning,” Fenton responded flatly, “and downsizing.”  
“Downsizing?” Taylor wasn’t sure he heard right, “what do you mean?”  
“Eat,” Fenton insisted, “I have something important to discuss with you.”  
Taylor gave him a curious look but ate as instructed. It was either going to be about Eric, or perhaps he was finally going to admit that his finances were going under. Either way Taylor wasn’t sure he wanted to have food in his stomach for the talk – a feeling of dread was creeping in already.  
When he was done he handed Fenton back the plate and the older man disappeared upstairs without a word. Taylor sat himself on the end of the bed to wait for him to come back, twiddling his thumbs nervously. Fenton was acting odd, but none more so than he had since Christmas.  
When he returned he had something in his hands. Taylor kept his eyes plastered to it as Fenton made his way down, and before he brought it to him he could see that it was the Christmas card he’d written in.  
“You didn’t send it?” Taylor’s brow furrowed, trying to hide an inner panic already.  
“No, I didn’t,” Fenton calmly stood in front of him and opened the card.  
Taylor felt his heartbeat speeding up.  
“Can I ask why?” he blinked nervously.  
“Let me answer your question with a question,” Fenton slid his finger into the card crease and turned it so Taylor could see his writing, “did you honestly believe I wouldn’t figure this out?”  
Taylor saw right away that Fenton had circled the first letter of every line in red marker. His eyes widened and he instantly put his hands up.  
“I did not do that on purpose,” he insisted.  
“Do not lie to me,” Fenton remained calm.  
“I swear!” Taylor’s panic started to grow obvious, “I swear I read it over ten times and I couldn’t see anything that would implicate you. It was a mistake! Just let me do it again, please?!”  
Fenton smirked a little and it set Taylor even more on edge. He’d barely ever shown a hint of a smile before, let alone a smirk.  
“Please, I didn’t mean to,” Taylor shook his head, “ _please_ let me try again?”  
“Sadly that ship has sailed,” Fenton took the card in both hands and ripped it in two.  
Taylor gulped at that, clasping his hands together and biting into them as he struggled not to let his eyes water. He knew it would only provoke Fenton further.   
“Stand up.”  
“I’m sorry,” Taylor said into his fists, keeping his eyes down.  
“ _Stand up_.”  
Taylor knew the tone. It was one he’d used before when he called Eric. Not wanting to risk it, he gingerly pulled himself to his feet.  
“Follow me,” Fenton wouldn’t even look at him.  
Taylor watched the pieces of card fall as Fenton dropped them onto the bed, before following him to the other side of the staircase. Knowing the chain wasn’t going to let him get much further he paused at the end as Fenton went to the door under the stairs. Taylor waited as Fenton pulled a large bolt aside and opened the door, and while he was curious at what was inside he didn’t trust Fenton enough right now to get any closer.  
Once the door was opened Fenton went back to the rack to retrieve a chain. Taylor leant against the stair rail to keep himself upright as he watched Fenton take the chain over to the bed. Using two padlocks he secured the new chain to both the bed and the current chain, before going to swap keys from the television and returning to free the current chain.  
With the ankle chain now having extra length Taylor’s mind was telling him to act. But with the way Fenton was acting he almost felt like the doctor would rather stab him than let him get one over on him. Maybe once whatever he was doing was over Taylor would get another chance.  
Fenton pulled the extra chain back toward the stairs to give Taylor more leverage before taking his shoulder as he walked past. Taylor leant against the wall to help himself along and when he got to the closet he very soon realised that it was empty.  
He immediately froze up.  
“What are you doing?” he frantically looked to Fenton.  
Fenton didn’t reply, just gave his shoulder a squeeze and tried to push him forward. Taylor struggled to stay upright before falling back into the wall and using his left foot to push himself back against it as hard as he could.  
“Wait! Wait,” he put his hands up to deflect Fenton, “this is crazy. You don’t need to do this. I _know_ what I did was wrong. If you’re doing what I think you’re doing you don’t need to do it. I get it! Please just give me a do-over and I swear it will _not_ happen again.”  
“It’s too late,” Fenton shook his head, reaching for his shoulder again.  
“It’s not too late!” Taylor exclaimed, “it’s not too late. Just tell me how I can make it up to you and I swear I will. Whatever it takes! I’ll do it!”  
“I want you…” Fenton looked him square in the eye, “to get in the closet.”  
“Please,” Taylor’s eyes finally did well up, “don’t make me do this.”  
He knew exactly why Fenton had chosen this as a punishment.   
“Get in,” Fenton diverted his eyes, stepping aside to hold the door.  
“No,” Taylor shook his head, not wanting to argue but taking the lesser of two evils.  
“No?” Fenton’s brow rose as Taylor began to slide down the wall.  
Taylor just shook his head again, having trouble finding any other words to defend himself with. Unable to bring himself to move once he’d hit the ground, Fenton moved to stand over him and reach again for his shoulder.  
“Come on,” he said softly, trying to pull him in.  
“No, no,” Taylor’s voice broke.  
When Fenton realised it wasn’t going to work he took hold of his hair instead. Taylor yelped and raised his hands to try and fend him off again, but Fenton had a good grip this time. Taylor was dragged into the shallow closet and before he could gather himself enough to try and escape Fenton had slammed the door shut.  
“FENTON?!” he almost screamed out, getting up onto his knees and feeling out the door in the dark, “Fenton don’t do this, please! I’m _begging_ you!”  
He was answered only by the sounds of the bolt being driven across and presumably padlocked.   
“NO!” Taylor slammed his hands against the door, already feeling himself start to hyperventilate, “Fenton! Please! Let me out! Let me out…”  
He barely heard his footsteps walking away above his own heavy breathing. Registering that Fenton wasn’t listening, he leant his head against the door and squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to imagine being somewhere else. He could already feel his chest starting to tighten.


	48. Chapter 48

The first two hours were the hardest.  
It didn’t matter if Taylor closed his eyes or not – the closet was dark. He opted to eventually keep them open as he struggled to concentrate on his breathing.  
He’d already broken out in a sweat though the closet had to be the coldest part of the basement. His head was already pounding and making it hard for him to think. He could feel his hands shaking as they lay flat against the door, continually pressing in the vain hope of finding release.  
He was conscious of the cold air travelling down his throat and into his lungs because it didn’t seem to be enough. His lungs felt like ice and the pounding of his heart only provoked the pain.   
His thighs trembled underneath him, begging him to let them run. But his calves felt like dead weights as if they knew there was nowhere to go. The chain pulled freely through a mouse-sized hole in the bottom corner of the door but wouldn’t retract.  
The closet itself was only as wide as the door, and Taylor was lucky to be able to turn his shoulders sideways with the shallowness of the back wall. But despite Taylor having frozen against the door it was feeling smaller and smaller with every passing moment.  
He quickly began to feel as though no air was making it into his lungs at all. While in his mind he knew it must be, he just couldn’t feel it happening. The feeling drove his panic rate higher and he knew he was already caught in the throes of a true panic attack.  
He tried calling for Fenton. It was too late. He couldn’t get enough air in his lungs to make any discernible sound. He weakly hit his fists against the door, knowing it was doing more harm to his heart than good. But the next thing he knew he was awkwardly squashed against the side wall where he’d fallen when he passed out.  
He struggled to pick himself up, the pain in his neck telling him he’d been there a while. But he was still in complete darkness and he could still only barely hear CNN in the distance.   
Swallowing hard and registering his dry throat straight away, he managed to position himself so that his shoulder sat against the side of the door that would open. If he continued to lean on it, he’d feel it give way if it ever did.  
Maybe Fenton was just going to leave him here forever. No one would ever find his body.  
The thought took his breath away and once again tightened his chest. With a groan he crossed his arms over his heart as best he could and tried to divert his train of thought. It wasn’t long before he felt the sharp pains in his chest again and his eyes began to water purely with the intensity.   
“Fenton?!” he cried out weakly in a last attempt to gain the doctor’s attention, “I need… I need help.”  
He even found himself wishing Fenton would reach through the door and put his hand on his head. It seemed to be the only thing that worked to calm him down lately. But there was little chance of that happening when Fenton was the one dishing out the punishment.  
The next time he woke up he hadn’t even realised he’d passed out. His chest still hurt, but not as bad as it had before he’d lost consciousness. He was still sitting in the same position. He tried stretching his legs out as far as he could before his back could start aching, but the closet width already didn’t offer him much movement.  
He was already holding his bladder. He had no idea how long Fenton was planning to keep him in there and having carefully felt the floor out with his fingertips he knew there wasn’t even so much as a speck of dirt on the ground to help him. There wasn’t anything to use as a bathroom.  
Taylor didn’t even know how long he’d been in there already. He’d already passed out twice – maybe more without realising it – and he couldn’t hear which newscaster was on CNN which might have given him a hint at the time of day. Since hearing his footsteps ascend the stairs he hadn’t been aware of Fenton returning to the basement, so as far as he could tell there was no end to his torment in sight. He was going to have to do something. While preferably staying sane long enough to do it.  
He shifted himself to the side as far as he could – not far – in order to move his hands down to the hole in the door the chain was coming through. With the chain in the way he couldn’t fit any more than his pinkie finger through with it. Which told him he probably wouldn’t get anything out of it. He was tempted to try and pull the chain against the underside of the door to try and saw the wooden door away piece by piece, but his bladder wasn’t going to hold out that long.  
He tried to feel the walls in case he’d missed some sort of small door or panel, but all three were solid. The door was evidently the only way out, second to growing a few feet taller and somehow breaking through the stairs.  
It was going to be uncomfortable, but he didn’t have a choice. He had to get it over with.  
He aimed under the door but couldn’t prevent leaving a puddle. With a grimace once he’d finished he tried to push himself as close against the back wall as he could. Happy enough to not feel it on his feet he closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing again.  
The dilemma had been a minor but very welcome distraction. Now all he had to focus on was his imprisonment once again.  
He tried calling out for Fenton a few times but presumed the doctor simply couldn’t hear him. Three more panic attacks hit him in a row before he managed to close his eyes and again try imagining he was simply somewhere else.  
“There’s still someone that I can tell my troubles to…” he even managed a smirk as he half-sang softly to himself.  
“’Cause me, myself and I will never be alone, and we’ll find a way to get along.”  
He stopped when his voice broke and cleared his throat. Instead of continuing he hit his head back against the wall and tried to focus on anything _but_ the wall.  
It didn’t work and he could feel the panic creeping in again just as soon.  
“And we’ll be fine,” he tried to cover with, “when all that’s left is me, myself and I… myself and I will never be alone. We will find a way to get along.”  
He stopped to take a deep breath, realising it was slowly working.  
“And we’ll be fine,” he lowered to a whisper, “when all that’s left is me, myself and I.”  
Taylor settled into a hum as he focused solely on the piano in his head. His fingertips quivered as he imagined playing it out and his head swayed in time.  
It wasn’t ideal by a long shot, but it was enough to keep him calm and focused. He needed to cling to it for all he was worth.  
He imagined being alone in the studio at 3CG. No one to interrupt, just some quality time with the keyboard and his thoughts. He could almost see the fairy lights in the distance when he opened his eyes and concentrated.  
“When did it start getting old?” he frowned to himself, “when did it stop being worth the time just to see it through?”  
He sighed and closed his eyes again, finally feeling the exhaustion winning out over the fear.  
“I don’t want to get used to ‘it’s over’.”  
He swallowed and let his head fall to the side.  
“I just want to see you again.”


	49. Chapter 49

Taylor clearly heard the New Year fireworks out in the street. It did nothing more than tell him he’d been in the closet for less time than he’d imagined. The next time he fell asleep he easily lost track of time again.  
He couldn’t hear Fenton upstairs like he usually could. He couldn’t hear if his car had left at all. All he could make out were a few words from CNN and none of it made any sense. He was just simply left alone in the dark with nothing but his thoughts, which continuously fed his now frequent panic attacks. None were as bad as the first two but some still knocked him out.   
Taylor had no concept of how long it had been when he heard a footstep above his head. Trying not to get his hopes up he chose to ignore them and focus on a new tune in his head. He did however pay attention when he heard movement outside the door, and couldn’t help but hold his breath in anticipation.  
“Taylor, are you awake?” he heard Fenton’s voice, but only barely.  
Taylor licked at his dry lips, working himself up to respond.  
“Yes Sir.”  
He heard Fenton sigh and hung his head. He’d still stupidly gotten his hopes up a little but Fenton obviously wasn’t opening the door.  
“You know why I had to do this, don’t you?”  
 _Because you prefer psychological torture to physical._  
“Yes,” Taylor nodded to himself.  
“Do you feel you’ve learnt a lesson?”  
Taylor hesitated at that, not sure how to word his answer. Worried that Fenton would take his silence as dissent he took the first thing that came to mind.  
“I don’t know how else to say sorry,” he cursed inside his head when his voice broke again.  
He was already weighing up offering sex for freedom. It wasn’t as if Fenton wouldn’t take it anyway, and if it meant he got out sooner…  
“Okay,” he heard Fenton say, before also hearing him move.  
Expecting him to walk away, his heart leapt into his throat when he heard metal hit metal. There was no mistaking the familiar sound of key entering padlock.  
He struggled to sit himself up straighter, ignoring the pain in his back and neck. He soon heard the bolt being driven across and for the first time in he wasn’t sure how long – he saw light.  
As soon as the door was open far enough he fell onto his hands and knees and crawled out as fast as he could. But his limbs soon failed him and he had to collapse onto his side not far from the door. As soon as he stopped moving he registered that his shakes were back, and he was again having trouble breathing.   
He heard the door creak shut again as Fenton tried to conceal the smell before stepping around him and heading over to the bed. Taylor didn’t bother looking after him, already feeling like he should be savouring every moment of his freedom. When Fenton came back to his line of sight all he did was hand Taylor a water bottle.  
Taylor stared at it before gingerly reaching for it. He knew he was thirsty but he wasn’t sure he could bring himself to sit up enough to drink from it.   
“Are you alright?” Fenton asked, standing over him as he waited for Taylor to move.  
Taylor just nodded, afraid that if he spoke he might either offend Fenton somehow or his voice would break again.  
“You need to drink,” Fenton leant down to give him a pat on the shoulder, “you’ll be very dehydrated. I’ll get you something to eat.”  
He stood again and headed for the stairs, making his way up and leaving the door open. Taylor rolled onto his back once he registered that he was gone, swallowing hard as he tried to keep control of himself.   
He felt more than dirty. He had no idea how long he’d spent in the close confines with his own mess. He was half tempted to just pour the bottle over himself but he knew it wouldn’t be a good idea. Besides, Fenton had already seen him much worse.  
He rolled over again onto his stomach this time, using his elbows to push himself up. When he made it up onto his left hip he unscrewed the bottle cap and took a quick sip. The feeling of the water on his cracked lips egged him on and he ended up downing half the bottle before Fenton returned.  
“Come over to the bed,” Fenton indicated as he made it down the stairs.  
Taylor looked up for him, debating if he should ask for a towel. He decided to just do as Fenton asked and crawled to the bed with the water bottle in hand instead. When he made it to the foot he just leant against it as he watched Fenton set down a plate on the chair.  
“You should eat,” Fenton insisted when he turned back, “you need something in your stomach.”  
“I will,” Taylor promised, blinking as he looked up at him.  
Fenton gave him a nod and moved to leave. Taylor took a deep breath before clearing his throat.  
“Can I have a towel?” he finally asked, making Fenton pause.  
He gave him another nod before continuing up. Taylor didn’t bother moving until he got back, choosing to turn his attention to CNN instead to try and catch up on the stories he’d only heard parts of from the closet. He couldn’t piece many of them together but he soon worked out why.  
“January second?” he frowned when he noticed the date.  
He looked across to the air conditioner but it was still frozen over, he couldn’t see daylight. But he wasn’t sure that he would have considering the clock on the screen said 18:56.  
“Two days?” he gasped to himself before scratching at his head.  
He couldn’t conceive that he’d lost that much time. He’d must have spent the vast majority of it unconscious.  
He was rubbing his face in disbelief when Fenton returned with the towel, and it was thankfully slightly damp. Taylor quickly brushed it over himself to at least let himself feel cleaner before focusing on his knees, feet and rear. Fenton took it back from him when he was done.  
“Has it really been two days?” he had to ask, almost worried at the answer.  
“It has,” Fenton confirmed.  
“Did you leave me here?” Taylor was more worried about how easy it seemed to be for him.  
“I did not,” Fenton assured as he looked the towel over, “I was here the whole time. I didn’t want to leave you.”  
Taylor nodded at that, feeling strangely relieved. He still believed he could have had a heart attack in there and Fenton wouldn’t have even known, but he hadn’t. He was still here. And Fenton was still watching out for him.  
“Eat,” Fenton insisted, taking the towel back to the stairs.  
Taylor watched him go, and watched as the door closed behind him this time.   
Dinner seemed to be back to a careful diet – the one Fenton used when Taylor hadn’t eaten properly in a while. Taylor pulled himself over to the chair but remained stretched out on the floor to eat. It felt good just to be able to stretch full stop.  
He spent the rest of the night focusing on CNN, his sleep pattern completely lost for now.


	50. Chapter 50

It took a couple of days to get back to the usual daily routine. Fenton was back at work, and Taylor had physically recovered from his time in lockdown. Fenton had been back to raping him within a matter of days, and it took Taylor by surprise that he was partially relieved. It meant he was getting over what happened with Eric and things would return to normal.  
Aside from Taylor staying unusually quiet, nothing of significance happened until the second week of January. Fenton was ready to remove his ankle cast.  
“I can see your leg has grown weak,” he muttered as he prepared to do the cutting, “were you doing the exercises I told you to?”  
“Yes,” Taylor frowned, “I only didn’t when I couldn’t.”  
He paused when Fenton made eye contact before getting on with his work. Taylor was back on the shorter chain for the moment while Fenton fussed around. Having evidently performed the procedure multiple times – even previously on Taylor himself – the cast was off quick and Fenton was rubbing his hairy leg down with a wet towel to be rid of the plaster spots left. Taylor could already feel that the pressure wasn’t hurting him, it was only causing an ache through his ankle’s inactivity.  
“Try putting some weight on it,” Fenton finally stood back after gathering his towels.  
Taylor gingerly moved forward, knowing he wouldn’t get far on the short chain anyhow. Fenton obviously just wanted him to stand. He paused to take a deep breath before his attempt, but surprised himself when he managed to stand straight almost right away.  
“Good,” Fenton nodded, stepping aside.  
Taylor watched himself as he took a few steps around his radius. It definitely hurt, but it wasn’t a hurt he couldn’t handle. It just might take a while before he could actually run.  
The clatter of chains made him look up. Fenton had gone to fetch the shackles he’d earlier warned him he would use. With a dejected look he sat down on the end of the bed again to wait.  
Without a word Fenton returned and knelt in front of him to fix them.  
“While these may limit your movements, I trust you’ll keep your exercises going,” he spoke shortly.  
“Of course,” Taylor responded softly, already planning to make the most of it.  
While Fenton was down he reattached the longer ankle chain and removed the shorter one. That done, he stood again.  
“I’ll make us some dinner,” he gave Taylor a nod before leaving the basement.  
Taylor waited until the door was closed before standing from the bed again. The first thing he did – aside from make sure he could make it – was test the length out with the additional chain. He wasn’t sure what he was hoping for but he couldn’t get any further than the easel which had been set up beneath the air conditioner.   
He still hadn’t painted anything. He still wasn’t sure he wanted to.  
He looked up to where the pipes were again, debating what it might take to get a chain long enough to get there. He knew it would already be a long time before Fenton would trust him again, but the chances of ever getting a chain that would certainly reach the televisions seemed slim to none. Maybe one day he could convince Fenton all he needed to do was keep him anchored and the length didn’t matter, but he knew it wouldn’t be any day soon.  
He cautiously eyed the closet before shuffling back around to the bed. The chains were wide enough for him to almost take full steps, but he needed to get used to their movement before he could walk without feeling like he was going to trip over them.  
If he hadn’t been naked, he would have felt very much like he was in jail.   
He moved the chair to sit in front of the heater and took a seat to wait for Fenton. It was a weeknight so at least Taylor knew he’d leave the food and spend the night upstairs. Thankfully that was exactly what he did.   
After he’d eaten and while he still had the light, he sat back on the bed to study the shackles. They were basically oversized handcuffs with a similar locking system, and in fact looked very similar to the handcuffs he wore. The cuffs themselves were somewhat oblong to accommodate the shape of his ankles, but the only other difference was the length of the chain.  
He wasn’t sure how Fenton planned to part his legs with these on, but he was sure he’d soon find out. If routine came into play, probably the very next morning.  
It would be another week or so before the other plaster would come off, but at least he could still walk with that one on. And like clockwork, a week later it did.  
Fenton’s initial answer to the chain problem was to target Taylor while on his knees. He more often than not found himself forced to bend over the edge of the bed, keeping the chains on the floor and out of Fenton’s way. While he was by no means ‘getting used’ to the attacks, the fact that he fought Fenton a lot less now meant that Fenton became lax on restraining him whenever he did. Taylor didn’t want to provoke him into ramping them up again in case he could ever use it to his advantage, and so mostly took them with silence or short grunts. Fenton was fine with either as long as Taylor didn’t get upset.  
On another plus there continued to be no sign of Eric. In fact Fenton didn’t bother to mention him again, and Taylor sure wasn’t going to ask.   
The remainder of January and the beginning of February seemed to crawl by. Taylor didn’t try anything again, and Fenton didn’t really give him any leeway to. Knowing now that Fenton had his own version of punishment to dish out without having to involve Eric made him a lot more wary and a lot more calculated about what he could and couldn’t get away with. And of course, the thought constantly played in the back of his mind that Fenton could always resort to drugging him – which would leave him even unable to _think_ of a plan let alone carry one out.  
When he realised how much time was passing, barely noticing the dates any longer as he spent most of his time in a daze, he began to set his sights on the end of winter. The ice would melt and he would see sunlight again – however small of a sliver – and he’d have the smallest access once again to the outside world. Now without the worry that Eric would be the one to hear him, he knew his best chance was going to be yelling for help while Fenton was at work.  
He was even willing to try it with the gag still on, as he assumed he’d be forced to.  
But first, the ice had to melt. Which wasn’t going to happen at the beginning of February. The forecasts from CNN shared a sense of foreboding that they’d be in for a long winter, but Taylor knew he could hold out. He’d done well enough so far.  
In order to help pass the time, he finally brought himself to open the set of paints. It took him a few days to play with mixing colours to get them just right, but he started to get an outline of what he thought he could accomplish in the first work. Within about three days of toying with the idea he finally put brush to canvas.  
He used a lot of small strokes, trying to save space on the canvas as he remembered Fenton’s warning that he might not get another. He also hadn’t done it consciously but had chosen very dark colours to work with. When he realised what he’d done he grimaced internally, knowing it was another sign of his growing depression. But he’d rather succumb to depression over the colour of the paintwork than in relation to the holiday he knew was coming up soon – Valentine’s Day.


	51. Chapter 51

The day started like any other. It was a Friday so Fenton had to work, and barely anything was said as he served a mundane breakfast and fitted the muzzle before he left. Taylor found himself moping for most of the day, unable to sleep it off or sufficiently distract himself.  
When Fenton returned from work he remained huddled under the bedcovers. He wasn’t too cold – the heater was appropriate for the small space – but it wasn’t a day he felt like facing any more than he was forced to. He kept thinking over the plans he’d had for the day after spending so much time working around it the year before. It was supposed to be special for Natalie and it only made him feel worse.  
He didn’t bother to move when Fenton came down the stairs, pausing at the bottom as he surveyed the scene like usual. Taylor was never sure what he expected to change from day to day, but put it down to Fenton’s need for a sense of control over the space. After the pause he came to the side of the bed Taylor was facing and paused near his head. Taylor’s eyes looked up to see Fenton holding a red rose.  
He did a double take, not sure he was seeing what he was seeing.  
“It’s Valentine’s Day,” was the first mention he’d made of the holiday.  
He held the rose out for Taylor to take. Taylor desperately didn’t want to, but he was far too emotionally drained to put up a fight. Without otherwise moving he slid his hands out from under the covers and took hold of it, laying it on the bed as Fenton stepped away.  
He heard Fenton go about cleaning up before heading up the stairs again. When he was gone Taylor closed his eyes. He imagined to himself handing the rose to Natalie.  
He almost felt himself falling asleep as he heard Fenton bustling around in the kitchen. He barely even registered that Fenton hadn’t removed the gag as he usually did at first opportunity. It made him hope Fenton would forget about him for the night and just let him sleep through until morning.  
He had no such luck. Fenton returned within the hour. As Taylor’s eyes followed him down the stairs he could see he didn’t have anything with him as he came back to his side and leant over to unlock the gag. Taylor leant up so that he could take it off, falling back to the bed once it had gone.  
“Just going to lay there all night?” Fenton seemed to be in a better mood than usual.  
“If I can,” Taylor replied barely above a whisper.  
“Are you unwell?”  
“No,” he shook his head, knowing the million questions that would follow if he dared say yes.  
“Then get up.”  
Taylor grimaced to himself when he heard the order, knowing Fenton wouldn’t relent. After a moment’s hesitation he gingerly pushed the covers aside and sat himself up.  
“I need to talk to you,” Fenton sat on the end of the bed, indicating for Taylor to join him.  
He took a moment to work out where the chain needed to go before shuffling himself forward to Fenton’s left. The chain pooled on the floor as he made it and sat with his legs crossed on the edge. Fenton looked him over, taking in his body language.  
“Are you sure you’re not unwell?” he frowned.  
“I’m fine,” Taylor brushed off, “what do you want to talk about?”  
“A few things,” Fenton’s gaze didn’t waver though Taylor kept his eyes down, “firstly I’d like you to start thinking about something you’d want for your birthday.”  
Taylor frowned at that, wondering what he meant.  
“I know it’s a month away but I may need that time to try and put money aside for it.”  
“You want to buy something for me?” Taylor tried to confirm.  
He looked up in time for Fenton’s nod before lowering his eyes again.  
“What are the boundaries?”  
“Nothing that transmits,” Fenton said flatly, “nothing that makes noise. Nothing that needs upkeep or financial stability. Preferably something that does not use too much power.”  
Taylor just nodded, wondering what on earth he could actually ask for. A few things came to mind but he was too worried of them being turned down to bring them up this soon.  
“I have a dinner planned for us tonight,” Fenton broke his concentration, “but I’m wary if you’re not feeling well.”  
“I’m _fine_ ,” Taylor insisted, hoping a sterner voice would get his point across, “it’s nothing physical. It’s just a hard day.”  
“You’ve been thinking about Natalie.”  
Taylor nodded and absently began picking at his fingernails. He knew Fenton was slowly growing more annoyed whenever Taylor’s home or family came up, but considering the circumstances he hoped Fenton would give him some slack.   
“I wasn’t going to tell you this,” Fenton began somewhat cautiously, “but she came to me last month. It was the last time I saw her.”  
Taylor’s head shot up. The idea that Natalie might have sought solace with Fenton after his disappearance made his skin utterly crawl.  
“She appears to be going through many similar emotions,” Fenton went on as if not noticing, “I prescribed her some anti-depressants and something to help her sleep.”  
“You…” Taylor’s voice cracked, and he panicked he might not get the question out, “you wouldn’t give her anything she didn’t need, right?”  
Fenton immediately frowned.   
“Why would I?” his tone changed, “I have no reason to hurt her.”  
Taylor’s eyes shot to the floor as he felt himself shiver. He wasn’t sure if it had been a veiled threat, or if he’d suddenly become paranoid.   
“Nothing has changed. She comes to me in trust, and I provide it,” Fenton stated, “Willa’s hand has also healed to satisfaction.”  
“Thank you,” Taylor tried to sound sincere, but knew there was a shake in his voice.  
He jumped when he felt Fenton’s hand on the back of his neck. He couldn’t reach to deflect it even if he’d been brave enough to. He expected Fenton to force him to his knees as he’d done so many times already but was surprised when he simply leant in.  
“I will continue to take good care of them,” he promised as he tried to look him in the eye, “as I will you. You need to stop this.”  
“I can’t. I’m responsible for them-“  
“No, you’re not,” Fenton insisted, “you are only responsible for yourself and your own actions.”  
“I went from being the head of a household of seven to being entirely dependent on one person,” Taylor’s voice broke, “and it didn’t take months, it took seconds. From the moment I got here I had to depend on you for pure survival. I’m still having trouble processing that.”  
Taylor’s yelp was muffled as Fenton suddenly planted his lips against his captive’s. He didn’t fight back but he could feel the chains shake as his eyes squeezed shut. When Fenton pulled back he took a deep breath.  
“I love you,” Fenton looked him in the eye sincerely, “that is all you need to focus on for the time being.”


	52. Chapter 52

“What’s wrong?” Fenton frowned when he felt Taylor seize up.  
Taylor felt his eyes welling up and couldn’t force them to stop.  
“Please don’t make me say it back,” he practically begged.  
“Of course not,” Fenton gave his neck a squeeze where he still had hold, “not until you mean it.”  
If his eyes could widen any further, they did.  
“You’re not expecting that to happen overnight,” he realised aloud as Fenton took his hand away, “you’re not planning to let me go, are you?”  
Fenton sighed to himself, sitting now with his hands clasped as Taylor often did.  
“That’s why you’ve never given me a time frame,” Taylor’s brow furrowed, “because you never planned to let me go. This is forever.”  
“You need to calm down,” Fenton said decidedly.  
“You can’t keep me down here forever,” Taylor was careful not to raise his voice, “I can’t survive down here. And what if something happens to you?!”  
“I will give you anything you feel you need to survive,” Fenton assured solemnly.  
“I need _freedom_.”  
“I will give you anything,” Fenton gave him a pointed look, “within reason, and within my ability. I’ve done my research and this is very possible. I’ve already supplemented your diet accordingly…”  
Taylor blanched at that, now worried about what Fenton might have been putting in his food.  
“…along with your exercises and your compliance you will be otherwise fine.”  
“What about my frame of mind?” Taylor could feel his tears about to fall and didn’t bother to wipe them away.  
“I will do everything I can to preserve it, but certain changes need to take place,” Fenton reasoned, “surely a man of your intellect can understand that. Don’t play stupid.”  
The comment caught Taylor off guard and he finally turned away. If the past two months hadn’t been enough of an initiation he wasn’t sure what else might be coming.  
He finally wiped his eyes as Fenton stood from the bed.  
“I’ll get dinner started.”  
“I’m bored,” Taylor said in a defeated tone.  
“Excuse me?” Fenton turned back.  
Taylor took a moment to gather himself before looking up.  
“I’m bored,” he repeated, “I can’t stare at the walls any longer. There’s nothing to do here and I feel like…”  
He paused, trying to find the words.  
“I feel like sometimes I can’t even string a sentence together.”  
“What do you want?” Fenton’s eyes narrowed, “you have barely touched the easel.”  
Taylor chewed his lip knowing that was true. He just couldn’t find the willpower to be creative underneath the repression.  
“Some books might work,” he shrugged, “anything you have lying around the house?”  
He didn’t expect anything right away. On the contrary it had taken some time for Fenton to come up with the grocery budget idea which he’d since done every other week. But it simply hadn’t been enough. Especially not with how quickly Taylor had gone through it.  
Still the occasional glance of the grocery flyers were a reminder that there was a world still turning outside without him and the people on CNN weren’t just actors there to appease him.  
“I’ll return with dinner,” Fenton nodded before taking to the stairs.  
Taylor immediately wondered if he’d even heard him. When he was gone he shifted so he could put his feet on the floor to wait, turning to eye the rose still on the bed. He wasn’t sure what to do with it, and there didn’t seem to be any safe place to keep it.  
When Fenton returned it was with the same small folding table he’d brought down at Christmas time. He took his time setting it up just right with a red tablecloth and the good silver cutlery Taylor had also only seen at Christmas. The centrepiece was a small candelabra.  
Fenton soon disappeared again and Taylor used the time to shift himself over to his chair. A reflection from his knife caught his eye and he reached over to pick it up. He saw that the surface had been polished to a mirror image and his fingers had already ruined the perfection at his touch.  
He briefly wondered if even a butterknife would be sharp enough to pierce skin. All he’d have to do was slice through his heel and he’d be able to slide the ankle chain right off… But Fenton suddenly reappeared at the top of the stairs making him drop it back to the table.  
The meal itself was nothing more spectacular than any other night, it was just in a fancier setting. What was unusual about it was the addition of dessert – one they shared from the same plate.  
Taylor was hesitant at first and considered refusing, but the allure of the dark chocolate cake took a strangle hold on him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d even tasted chocolate. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d tasted cream. Begrudgingly he took as much as he dared, knowing Fenton never liked him having a full plate of food in comparison to his as it was. Taylor always figured it was a ploy to keep him physically weak.  
But at least if they were sharing it meant he hadn’t added anything to the food.  
“Books, you say?” Fenton’s voice made him jump.  
They’d almost finished eating before he’d spoken. Immediately feeling his nerves spike up again Taylor relinquished his spoon.  
“Yeah,” he nodded, running his hand along his lap.  
“Any particular kind?” Fenton heaped the last bite onto his own spoon and took it to his mouth.  
Taylor watched it go, the kiss replaying vividly in his mind and distracting him.  
“No,” he finally relented, “anything. Please just give me something.”  
Fenton set the spoon back on the plate and leant back to wipe his face with a white napkin.  
“And you won’t waste the time you’re supposed to be sleeping or exercising?”  
Taylor was already shaking his head. He was beginning to wonder if Fenton realised exactly how much time it took to do anything he asked of him. Or how much time he had left over.  
“Very well,” Fenton set the napkin on the table and got to his feet, “I’ll see what I can do.”  
He stepped around to Taylor’s side, and Taylor froze as he put a hand on his head. Taylor was now recognising it as a sign of affection as well as a calming gesture.   
But after the kiss it was once again giving the opposite effect.  
“If I do this for you I’ll expect something in return, you understand.”  
Taylor’s eyes closed. He’d been afraid of that.  
“What do you want?” he asked softly.  
“You will perform fellatio on me,” Fenton stated.  
“I will not,” Taylor’s eyes shot open in a now-rare moment of defiance, “and I swear to God if you put anything in my mouth that isn’t supposed to be there my jaw will snap shut so hard your grandchildren will feel it.”  
He stiffened again when Fenton’s hand ventured downward, his fingers curling gently around his throat.  
“Then I must invest in something to hold your jaw open.”


	53. Chapter 53

The very next day before Fenton left for work he brought down to the basement some television magazines and the first of Taylor’s lifelines – book one of an encyclopaedia collection. When Taylor saw it he thanked the older man but Fenton didn’t speak a word as he tended to the morning’s duties and left as usual.   
It was weeks later before anything else changed. Taylor absorbed the encyclopaedia like a sponge and managed to read it through multiple times.   
The rose had been looped through a crack in the staircase above the bed and the dried out petals had long fallen to the floor. Though while Fenton had meant it as a thoughtful gesture it had become a physical representation of the deterioration of Taylor’s fighting spirit. He grew to hate it.  
He’d actually thought any ultimatum would have provoked him more, but this one had seemed to have the opposite effect. There was still no way to get the chain from his ankle short of using a blunt instrument to saw through it – which he’d certainly considered – but he didn’t even have access to one of those without supervision. Fenton had been meticulous.  
It was Saturday the 8th when Fenton came home from work somewhat agitated. Taylor picked up on it right away and it set him on edge. Without a word the doctor went about cleaning up before returning to the basement empty handed. The first thing he did was move the chair closer to the centre of the floor.  
“Sit,” he instructed, giving it a tap as he moved away.  
Taylor’s eyes followed him as he lifted himself from the bed. He’d expected to have to kneel as usual for a Saturday but Fenton evidently had something else in mind. He took a seat and kicked the chain aside a little as Fenton went to the rack.  
The last time he’d gone was when the shackles had been placed around his ankles. In all the time Taylor had spent in the room with all the odds and ends, Fenton had never used any more than he’d deemed necessary. Taylor dreaded the day he decided to truly ‘play’ as Eric had seen fit to, but so far it hadn’t seemed anywhere on the horizon.  
When Fenton returned with two leather straps and another length of chain the day didn’t seem any closer.   
“What are you doing?” Taylor finally asked as Fenton knelt to deal with the chains.  
He left the shackles on, but used the new one to chain Taylor’s ankles to the legs of the chair. Taylor knew if he simply lifted the chair up the chains would slide off, so wondered why Fenton was bothering.  
But he didn’t reply. Once the chains were secured he leant up a little to hold one of Taylor’s arms against his lap. The handcuffs made sure both lay there. One of the leather straps was then placed over his arms to hold them down and secured beneath the seat.  
Now Taylor started to worry. Whatever Fenton was planning for the evening it was becoming obvious that he didn’t want his charge to be able to fight back.   
“Please just tell me what you’re doing?” Taylor leant forward a little to try and catch his eye, “why all the restraint? What am I going to do?”  
When Fenton was done with the first strap he took the other and stood. Worried for a moment that it was going around his neck – despite the length – he found himself relieved when it went around his chest and upper arms to hold his back straight against the chair.   
Resigning himself to having no defence he waited for Fenton’s next move. Unexpectedly, he returned upstairs.  
Taylor sat in an awkward silence as he waited for him to come back. He couldn’t twist enough to see up into the house and he already worried how long Fenton was going to take. He heard him bustling around in the living room for a time before finally descending the stairs again.  
When Taylor turned his head to the left he saw Fenton place a cardboard box onto the bed.  
“What’s that?” he asked, figuring his chances were fifty-fifty for an answer.  
Fenton pulled a plastic bag from the box and carefully broke it open. Taylor heard a tiny rattle likened to the lock on the muzzle gag as Fenton brought the object over to him. Taylor frowned as his eyes fell on the leather and buckles as Fenton undid some of the strapping. Once he had it open Taylor caught onto what it had to be.  
“Open,” Fenton instructed, waiting patiently at his side.  
Taylor was already shaking his head.  
“No!” he grimaced through his teeth as Fenton stepped closer.  
He moved to stand behind him and Taylor saw the black come down over his eyes. Using the fingers on his left hand Fenton held the side of his jaw and tried to gently pry it open.  
“Open your mouth,” he tried again.  
Taylor grunted as he felt the pressure on his teeth, trying to pull back from the gag while Fenton held his head into his chest.   
He panicked right away that Fenton was surely stronger than him and might be able to force his jaw open, but despite it being painful on his teeth he managed to keep it locked. Eventually Fenton ceased the pressure and instead slid his fingers through Taylor’s hair. Taylor took the moment to try and catch his breath.  
“Don’t try my patience today,” he said calmly.  
Taylor took it as a trick to try and get him to reply and so remained silent. His next yelp came through his teeth as Fenton suddenly grabbed him again – more forceful this time – to try and get it in through the element of surprise. But Taylor refused to give in and this didn’t work either.  
With a huff Fenton backed off, stepping aside to lay the gag on the bed.  
“Very well,” his voice remained calm as he headed for the stairs again.  
Taylor listened closely to every footfall as he went up, worried it was just another ploy. When he’d disappeared into the house Taylor leant his head back with a sigh. He had to stop and centre himself at times for fear of losing his mind altogether.  
Fenton was back sooner than expected and Taylor sat up alert again. Fenton returned to the bed and Taylor heard the familiar sound of the catches of the silver case snapping open.  
“NO!” he exclaimed, turning his head to see Fenton readying the needle.  
“I told you not to test my patience,” Fenton replied flatly, concentrating more on what he was doing.  
“Can’t we talk about this?!” Taylor’s brow furrowed, “you haven’t even brought it up in weeks!”  
“I was waiting for the leathers to arrive,” Fenton tapped the syringe, a squirt spilling from the needlepoint.  
“Oh come on,” Taylor pleaded, “I get no say in this whatsoever? Just like everything else?”  
The needle went in and he cringed and turned his head.   
“This is not how you treat someone you’re supposed to love,” he said between his teeth before it was pulled out.  
“Most lovers wouldn’t run at first opportunity either,” Fenton sounded almost sad as he returned the syringe to the case, Taylor already starting to feel lightheaded.  
“But wouldn’t it mean more with consent?” Taylor leant forward as far as he could.  
If Fenton replied, he didn’t hear it. He already couldn’t raise his head and he soon sank into oblivion.


	54. Chapter 54

When Taylor awoke he immediately felt the restriction on his face. Jumping up with a start he quickly realised three things. First, he was no longer in the chair. Second, his hands had been cuffed behind him for the first time in months. Third, he was in the dark.  
Feeling the panic rise in his chest he gingerly stretched out his right leg. When it came into contact with the close wall of the closet he flinched and let out a muffled cry.  
Fenton had locked him under the stairs again.  
Closing his eyes and concentrating on his breathing, he tried to work out his situation. The shackles were still on his ankles and the ankle chain was still in place. His shoulders were already aching from their sudden change of position and his hands were numb from where he’d landed on them. He’d apparently been there a while.  
The gag was already painful. It forced his jaw open by the use of a short mouthguard holding the front of his teeth, but he couldn’t breathe through it so knew it had been covered over. He had a foul taste in his mouth, not dissimilar to what the muzzle had tasted like at first.   
Despite concentrating on all of this, he still felt the all too familiar panic rising in his chest. The air in the closet felt heavy and hard to breathe in, and his eyes were nowhere near adjusting to the crack of light through the small chain hole in the door. Trying to recreate a tactic that had somewhat worked the first time, he huddled sideways against the door and stretched his legs as far as he could without them touching the walls, before closing his eyes and trying to imagine he was just sitting in the corner of a large and open room.  
At first it worked. He managed to bring his heart rate down a little despite the sweats starting, and fooled himself by trying to concentrate on a family gathering. But he was soon brought crashing back to reality by the sound of a footstep on the stairs above.  
He pushed himself back against the wall of the closet as Fenton’s footsteps descended the stairs, wondering already what the doctor had planned. He may have only just woken up but he was already willing to do just about anything to get out of the closet. He couldn’t do a repeat of the last time – he just couldn’t. He still couldn’t fathom how he’d lost two whole days.  
He wasn’t sure what to expect when the footsteps came straight down to the closet door. A padlock was noisily undone, and the bolt driven across, before Taylor had to squint at the sudden invasion of light as the door opened a crack.  
“You’re awake,” came Fenton’s voice.  
He still didn’t sound happy and Taylor’s heart instantly filled with dread. Just the tone he spoke with told Taylor his chances of getting out of the closet weren’t very good.  
“I hope you’re feeling more compliant this morning,” he continued, opening the door further.  
Taylor’s breath caught in his throat when he realised Fenton stood naked. He barely registered that he’d already lost an entire night to the sedative.   
He found himself pushing back into the wall again when Fenton took an unexpected step forward. When he reached down to put his hand on Taylor’s hair, Taylor couldn’t help but groan pitifully.  
“Do this for me, and I’ll let you out.”  
It wasn’t a promise – it was an ultimatum. Taylor closed his eyes as he digested it before cringing as Fenton’s fingers closed tighter over his hair. His hands scrambled to find leverage against the wall as Fenton used it to pull him onto his knees and Taylor was soon sitting up on his chained legs.  
His heart began to race as Fenton stooped to fix the gag. Suddenly having trouble breathing Taylor knew he was about to have another panic attack, but there was no way to let Fenton know without risking the doctor’s assumption that he was simply refusing. Instead he closed his eyes and raced to pray for it to pass.  
Taylor barely felt when the front of the gag was removed, leaving the inside of his mouth exposed beneath the mouthguard. But he jumped when Fenton placed a hand flat to his chest.  
“Calm down,” Fenton stared him in the eye as he felt his racing heart, “this will not be the horrendous occasion you assume it to be.”  
Taylor wished with everything that he could believe him. But Fenton had already done nothing but lie from the day he’d arrived. He took a few deep breaths to attempt to calm himself, but couldn’t stop his eyes welling as Fenton stood in front of him again.  
Then it happened quickly. Fenton again slid his fingers through Taylor’s hair, and this time used his hair as leverage to force himself into him. Taylor choked straight away forcing Fenton to let up a little, but it didn’t stop. He heard Fenton start to grunt from the outset, but closed his eyes and tried to ignore anything but trying to keep himself breathing and upright.   
But this time Taylor was very conscious of the swell, as much as Fenton’s vigorous movement didn’t waver from the norm. Taylor could almost begin to count how long it would take the older man to succumb, but it hadn’t always proven to be accurate and this was evidently a different setting.  
Trying to keep his thought process tuned to such things meant the ordeal did finally end faster than he’d expected. Fenton pulled out before ejaculating, but not soon enough to stop it messing the floor. Taylor fell back onto his ankles as Fenton let go of his hair, soon falling sideways against the doorframe as he struggled to catch his breath. The taste now in his mouth was worse.  
Fenton stood aside to gather himself, standing with his eyes closed as he groaned appreciatively. Taylor kept his eyes on Fenton’s feet in case he turned back. Surprisingly when Fenton finally moved it was to turn and walk away.  
Taylor’s eyes followed him until he was out of sight, then he jumped when he heard his footsteps on the stairs. Once Fenton had disappeared into the house Taylor took the opportunity to get himself out of the closet. It was difficult with his hands behind him and he didn’t manage to skirt the semen on the floor, but he was soon able to fall back against the stair wall just outside the door. He managed to take a few deep breaths as his claustrophobia finally softened, only to hear Fenton already coming back. Praying straight off that he wouldn’t just return him to the closet he refused to open his eyes.  
Fenton stopped in front of him and Taylor flinched as something soft hit his face. When he opened his eyes he saw Fenton – still naked – holding a small towel which he dropped to the floor.  
“Clean it up,” Fenton ordered, indicating the mess.  
Taylor’s brow furrowed as he already tried to work out how to do it with his hands cuffed. The moment of stress was quelled when he realised Fenton had small keys in his hand. Fenton leant over to take his shoulder and turn him slightly before finally unlocking the handcuffs. Taylor couldn’t quite remember the last time he hadn’t felt the metal rings on his wrists and took a quick moment to rub them before his hands shot to the gag.  
“Don’t touch it,” Fenton scorned, slapping his hands away, “clean. Now.”  
Taylor grunted at the shock of being hit again – even just a gentle slap – before looking for the towel. Fenton stood back to watch as he cautiously took it and started to clean up Fenton’s mess. Fenton made an imposing figure as his shadow fell over Taylor’s crumpled form and Taylor was very conscious of it. He wasn’t even sure if he was doing it on purpose or if he was still just mad about Taylor’s rejection… or if he was upset from something that had happened at work the day before. Fenton, as usual, offered him nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, sorry for the delay. It's been crazy since the Aussie tour was announced with trying to book tickets, flights and accommodation. Will hopefully get more time to write once it's all set in stone.


	55. Chapter 55

Taylor wasn’t sure what the particular trigger had been, but the day had been a turning point for Fenton and the way he began to treat his captive. As soon as Taylor had been done with cleaning up – or so he thought – Fenton had returned upstairs and fetched a bucket of soapy water. When he returned to the basement with it he instructed Taylor to clean the whole floor (or as far as he could reach given his limitations) before securing the front of the gag again and leaving for the morning to fetch their groceries. Glad for at least having something different to do, Taylor complied.  
He stopped only when the pain in his jaw became too much to handle. It had been aching ever since he’d woken in the closet, but as the morning wore on it was starting to cramp. Eventually he pulled the chain as far as it would reach over to the air conditioner and gingerly put his cheek to the cold metal still surrounded by ice. It worked to numb one side of his jaw and by the time it worked on the second the first had worn off. Once the cramping had at least seemed to die down somewhat, he dejectedly slid to the ground and again struggled to control his emotions.  
He’d already often wondered how much more of this he could handle, and each time he’d been proven that it could always get worse. He didn’t want to entertain the thought now just in case he’d be proven wrong yet again. Both Fenton and Eric were now the only human contact Taylor had had in over three months. Before this he’d never been isolated for more than a few days in his entire life.  
But despite the absence of the usual noise level of home, the never ending drone of the voices on CNN had started to hurt his ears. The volume was never changing, their tone of newsreader voice never changed, but it was certainly playing tricks with his head. Sometimes it became all he could focus on and he was sure above all it’d be the first thing to drive him mad. But any attempt to ask Fenton to change channels – even to another news channel – went unheard.  
Deciding to make the most of his time free of the handcuffs even if he hadn’t finished Fenton’s task as yet, he fell back onto the floor and lay his arms out as far as they would stretch. He grimaced at the pull in his shoulders as they struggled with the alien movement but any noise he made was well and truly muffled.   
He’d been there barely minutes before hearing the front door open and footsteps returning to the house. He could instantly tell by the pattern that they belonged to Fenton and quickly leant up onto his elbows. He’d managed to finish most of the floor but he hadn’t done around the bed yet.  
Not knowing if the shopping trip would have calmed Fenton any, he forced himself to crawl over to the bucket and pull it toward the bed. He’d barely wet the cloth before the door opened above and Fenton’s shadow cast downward. Taylor froze as he waited for Fenton’s move, unsure if he should keep going. When Fenton simply closed the door again Taylor closed his eyes for a moment, trying to shake off his fear as he got back to work. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do when he was finished but he hoped he’d at least be fed. He hadn’t eaten since before Fenton had left for work the morning before.  
He quickly finished scrubbing the floor around the bed – and even under the bed as far as he could reach – before setting the bucket aside and sitting back against the bed end. Task achieved he had nothing else to do but wait for Fenton’s return. He could hear him moving around upstairs but couldn’t tell what he was doing.   
After turning his attention to the stories on CNN, the clock told him Fenton didn’t return for another hour and twelve minutes. He hugged his waist – something he’d been dying to do since being handcuffed – and otherwise didn’t move. The first thing he noticed when Fenton made it down was that he was thankfully fully clothed.  
“Are you done?” he asked curtly.  
Taylor nodded, before his eyes darted across the floor to subconsciously double check. Fenton stepped aside as if to check for himself before coming back to finally unlock the gag.  
“Good,” was just as stern, taking a moment to get the buckle undone before finally pulling it away.  
Taylor immediately groaned and held his jaw as he was finally able to close it. He closed his eyes as he ground his teeth to try and get the movement back, an alternate ache already setting in. He heard Fenton go to place the gag on the rack with the other leathers and opened his eyes again when he heard him coming back.  
He flinched when he realised his stride wasn’t slowing, but not soon enough to duck away when Fenton grabbed him by the hair.  
“Will you do it again?” he demanded.  
“No!” Taylor responded through clenched teeth, hands in fists to stop him using them defensively.  
He honestly wasn’t sure if he would or not, but at this point lying seemed the best course.  
Fenton let him go and he fell back against the bed, watching the doctor with wide eyes as he returned to the staircase. He was gone barely seconds before returning with a bottle of water.  
Taylor was hesitant to take it at first – half expecting Fenton to hit him with it instead – but finally had his long awaited drink. Fenton stood by imposingly as he waited for him to finish. Unsure of what he wanted, Taylor was cautious as he returned the cap to the bottle.  
“Are you okay?” he finally asked.  
“Don’t start anything,” Fenton grumbled, leaning down to take the bottle as Taylor’s stomach conveniently began making noises.  
“I’m not,” Taylor looked up awkwardly, “I’m genuinely concerned. Did something happen?”  
Fenton paused to look down at him as if to size up his sincerity. When Taylor’s expression didn’t change, he turned to take the empty bottle upstairs.  
Taylor sighed and sat back against the bed to wait for whatever came next. He’d never seen Fenton in such a state and he didn’t know what to expect. But when Fenton returned with a second bottle of water and a small packet of biscuits, this time he sat on the end of the bed beside Taylor’s shoulders as he handed them to him.  
“We… may have a problem,” he admitted almost sullenly as Taylor tore into the biscuits.  
“What kind of problem?” Taylor felt his face going red as his mind immediately took him to worst case scenarios.  
“Financial,” Fenton confirmed, “and it’s going to get worse.”  
Taylor frowned to himself, wondering if there’d been some kind of rise on the amenities. He hadn’t seen anything of the sort on the news.  
“We may have to move.”  
“ _Move_?” Taylor managed to keep his voice down but couldn’t stop the incredulous look on his face, “what do you mean, move? Move _house_?”  
“Yes,” Fenton nodded, not even looking down, “though it is pure speculation at this point.”  
Taylor was starting to feel sick, and not from his first sight of food in days. His first thought was that moving would be an avenue for escape, but he just as soon realised Fenton would probably rather drug him than potentially let anything happen.  
“We will need to make changes,” Taylor’s back stiffened as Fenton gently put his hand on his head, “some drastic ones maybe, but essential nonetheless.”  
“I know,” Taylor relented, at the same time his mind working overtime to try and think of alternate solutions, “but we’re in this together, right?”


	56. Chapter 56

Fenton continued his harsh treatment of Taylor for the next couple of weeks, and Taylor began to wonder if it was simply a case of being able to control at least one aspect of his – or their – lives regardless of what else might have been happening on the surface. He became adamant that Taylor keep the floor clean to a high standard, but he didn’t force him to do anything orally again for some time.  
As Taylor’s birthday drew closer nothing else had been said about a present, and Taylor presumed it had been sidelined due to Fenton not being able to afford anything. He truly didn’t care. The only thing he really wanted he knew Fenton wouldn’t give.  
Due to Fenton’s newest demands, Taylor found that he didn’t have to wear the handcuffs as often. Fenton still put them on him if he were to spend the night in bed, bathe him, feed him (or the like) but when Taylor was left alone in the basement his hands were now free.  
His birthday began like any other day. It fell on a Friday so Fenton had to work, and the morning routine remained the same. Aside from a quick ‘happy birthday’ and a pat on the head as Fenton replaced the gag after breakfast there was nothing out of the ordinary.  
Taylor set to cleaning the floor again for the morning, continually surprised at how much dust could simply gather overnight. Without the air conditioner going in the winter the basement had become quite stuffy, but he hadn’t found it any harder to breathe. He had the floor done by midday and worked on his exercises – he hadn’t stopped after the casts came off, he needed to at least try and stay physically mobile – before making his way back to the easel.  
He’d sectioned the first canvas off and tried to use it for multiple paintings. So far he hadn’t had to use the second canvas, and he already didn’t like his chances of acquiring a third. He spent his time working to create finer and finer detail in order to make the most of the space he had, and also just to waste more of his endless time.  
When he heard Fenton returning from work he began to pack up. He’d worked out exactly how long it took Fenton to walk through the front door, settle the day’s matters, clean himself up and make his way to the basement door. He had plenty of time to put the paints away and make his way back to the bed to kneel at the end in wait.  
He counted three seconds before the first bolt on the door unlocked, and rested his head on the bed covers to wait. Fenton didn’t bother removing the gag until he’d finished with him anymore so there was no point in being ready. The door finally opened and Fenton made his way down, pausing at the bottom of the stairs to look over his captive.  
When all Fenton did was clear his throat, Taylor looked up. He stood with a hand on the railing and a book under his other arm.  
“Not today,” he announced, “we need to talk.”  
Taylor sat back onto his legs with a frown. Fenton took the moment to step forward and hand him the book, before turning to leave the basement again. Taylor looked it over and quickly realised it was the second part to the encyclopaedia collection Fenton had given him the first book of back when he’d earlier complained of being bored. Wondering if this was Fenton’s idea of a birthday present, he couldn’t help but feel somewhat thankful. He needed something like this again.  
When he next saw Fenton he was bringing in the same table and chairs he’d had for both Christmas and Valentine’s. Taylor sighed to himself when he realised they were going to have another awkward dinner. Fenton took his time to set it up just right, and Taylor stayed sitting on the floor to wait until he was done. He only looked up when he heard the beer bottle hit the table top.  
“Almost ready,” Fenton assured, pouring himself a wine before heading upstairs again.  
Taylor still didn’t move. The nerves in his stomach had been gradually building since Fenton had made mention of their ‘need to talk’. When he saw that Fenton was bringing down the food on his next trip he finally pulled himself from the floor and shuffled over to his chair.  
He waited patiently as Fenton set the plates down and finally came to remove the gag.  
“You’ve done some painting,” was his greeting as he set the gag aside and took a seat.  
Taylor rubbed his mouth before reaching for the beer. Fenton’s hand beat him to it and he froze with his fingers around the neck.  
“I have,” Taylor relented, knowing it was a response that Fenton wanted.  
Fenton let the bottle go and Taylor finally had a drink. He took a moment to savour the taste knowing he probably wouldn’t have it again for some time.  
“You’ve almost filled the canvas.”  
Taylor set the beer aside with another sigh, knowing he had to wait for Fenton to start eating before he could.  
“I still have some room left,” he assured without making eye contact, “I won’t waste it.”  
“I know you won’t.”  
Taylor waited nervously for Fenton to make a move, and found himself staring at the food. He’d noticed over the past week that he was getting less than usual, and already forced to keep to only two meals a day was hard. At the same time he didn’t particularly need the energy so he was conflicted on whether to make something of it.  
“You want to talk?” he eventually guessed, pulling Fenton’s attention from CNN.  
“We can eat first,” Fenton assured, finally digging in.  
Taylor paused as he registered that Fenton must have a lot on his mind before he finally began to eat as well. He finished long before Fenton and set to trying to enjoy the beer despite his nerves. When Fenton finally set his plate aside he cleared his throat almost right away.  
“I’d like our dynamic to change somewhat,” he announced, catching Taylor off guard, “this entire… experience, has turned out a little different to what I had originally imagined.”  
“Okay…” Taylor frowned, unsure of what he meant.  
He felt his hairs standing on end once he realised Fenton was looking toward the rack.  
“The fact remains that I brought you here to be a bondage slave, not just for sex.”  
Taylor blanched, having to catch himself before he slid from the chair. His eyes shot toward the bed and to the rack. When Fenton realised and turned back to check on him Taylor’s eyes fell to the chains at his feet.  
“Okay, I’m officially scared to ask but…” he was having trouble not choking on the words, “what does that even mean? I thought I already was?”  
“No,” Fenton’s tone implied he was almost enjoying this already, “we’ve barely used any of the accessories I’ve collected, and there are more than what I have down here.”  
Taylor felt his blood run cold. He wanted to bolt from the chair and up the stairs and hope that praying enough would open the door for him, but he knew better. He’d likely trip on the chains, they wouldn’t reach more than halfway, and the door would be locked as it always was.  
“But I don’t want to have to force you,” Fenton went on as Taylor wiped at his eyes, “and I don’t want to have to involve Eric.”  
“Eric?” Taylor’s eyes shot up to him, “why would you involve Eric? Why would you let him back here after what he did?”  
“Because there is no one else,” Fenton shrugged, “to help me control you.”


	57. Chapter 57

“So you’d rather risk Eric’s involvement than drug me like you usually do?” Taylor’s voice croaked.  
“I don’t like sedating you,” Fenton assured, “I use it as a last resort.”  
“Or if you’re not getting your way,” Taylor scoffed.   
Fenton’s fist hit the table and Taylor jumped. He automatically gulped knowing he was out of line.  
“I don’t get a choice, do I?” he looked up again.  
Fenton stared back long enough to unnerve him further.   
“Why would you expect this of me?” Taylor’s brow furrowed, “when you know perfectly well how hard it is already?”  
“We will take baby steps,” Fenton said calmly, making Taylor roll his eyes, “I will not subject you to anything I don’t feel you’re ready for.”  
“I’m not ready for _this_ ,” Taylor insisted incredulously, “I’m not ready to spend the rest of my life in a basement, like some kind of toy you only take out of the box when you want to play.”  
He flinched back as Fenton suddenly stood, instantly panicking that he may have gone too far. Spending his 31st birthday in the closet had not been one of the morning’s goals. But Fenton instead made his way to the lockers.  
Taylor watched as he used one of the many keys on his belt to unlock the one beside the first Taylor had previously broken.   
“You’re starting now?” his brow furrowed, getting ready to pull himself from the chair.  
Fenton didn’t reply. He got the door open and reached in for one of three canvas duffels piled one on top of the other, pulling it out and taking it to the bed. With Fenton behind him Taylor realised his escape route had been blocked – before he realised Fenton had a foot on the chain anyhow to warn him if Taylor were to move.  
“Can we at least wait?” he pleaded, regardless of his begs usually falling on deaf ears.  
“For what?” Fenton had scorn in his tone, “for you to decide? And when will that likely happen?”  
“I don’t know,” Taylor admitted, struggling not to panic as Fenton opened the bag and started pulling things out, “maybe sooner than either of us think. Maybe if you actually told me what you wanted to do instead of just going ahead with it all the time it wouldn’t be so hard on me.”  
“You are behaving like a child,” Fenton scorned, “just sit there and be quiet.”  
“But I’m just trying-“  
“ _Enough!_ ”  
Taylor’s hand flew to his mouth and he instantly started biting his nails. He wanted to argue, and every vein in his body was telling him to, but he knew the consequences for it. He couldn’t yet judge if what was coming might have been worth it and he knew he’d have to play it out.  
When Fenton had selected what he wanted Taylor heard buckles being undone before Fenton turned back to him with what looked like a thin leather vest.  
“Turn sideways in the chair,” Fenton instructed, indicating for him to face the other way.  
“Why?” Taylor pressed, “what is it?”  
“This will be very hard and likely uncomfortable for you if I have to do this while you are sedated,” Fenton’s eyes narrowed, though Taylor’s continued to stare at the leather, “I wouldn’t want to accidentally dislocate something.”  
Taylor winced a little, but had at least figured out it had something to do with his arms. Judging that whatever it was, was indeed too big to cover his head successfully, he did as Fenton instructed.  
“Hands behind you,” Fenton’s voice softened once Taylor had complied, “this will be a little more restrictive than cuffs, but less demanding on your wrists.”  
Taylor knew that while he’d been wearing the handcuffs long term he’d been getting red rings around his wrists – which hadn’t entirely dissipated yet. They were more of a nuisance than an injury to him now, and mostly from when he’d fought against them in the beginning. With the length of time the bruising had stayed he’d begun to wonder if he’d done permanent damage but they were finally starting to heal all this time later.  
He took deep breaths as he felt the leather slide up his arms, flinching at the pinch when his shoulders were pulled back and he heard the first buckle fasten.  
“I will remove it before I retire for the night,” Fenton assured as he worked his way down the arms, “I wouldn’t like to damage your shoulders with unnecessary longevity.”  
Taylor didn’t reply, just waited for it to be over. Fenton had been right in that it didn’t feel any worse than the handcuffs psychologically, but his shoulders were already complaining at their newly forced position.  
Once the final straps had been fastened around his chest Taylor shivered as Fenton put his hands on his shoulders.  
“That’s not so bad now, is it?”  
Taylor hesitated but shook his head. He didn’t know if this was it, or if Fenton planned to take it further.  
His back stiffened when Fenton’s right hand started to venture down his chest.  
“Short of finding an appropriate gift for your birthday, I believe I may have found an alternative,” Fenton offered into his ear.  
“I don’t-“ Taylor cut himself off when Fenton’s left hand set against his throat.  
“Stay still,” Fenton warned as Taylor heard the chains below him move.  
He couldn’t move his head to see what was happening, but he felt the cuffs pull back gently on his ankles.   
“I need to share this with you,” Fenton’s voice lowered slightly, his chin almost on Taylor’s shoulder, “I’m aware the experience has been very one-sided so far. While it is unlikely to change, you shouldn’t have to expect an entire lack of reciprocation on my part.”  
“What do you-?”  
“Shh,” Fenton hushed, his hand venturing down.  
When Taylor felt Fenton take hold of him, he tried to flinch backward. But Fenton had hold in more ways than one.  
“Keep still,” Fenton insisted again.  
“No,” Taylor breathed as Fenton’s hand ran up and down, “no! No no- mmph!”  
Fenton’s left hand shot to Taylor’s mouth before his panic could become too audible. With the added restriction Taylor began to struggle more.  
“Calm down,” Fenton soothed, “I promise you’ll enjoy it.”  
Any protest Taylor made was muffled. He couldn’t bring his knees up to defend himself, and as Fenton pushed him into a rhythm his instincts struggled to take over forcing his body to succumb.  
His protests turned to moans as he kept his eyes shut, unable to control the tears from escaping while his focus was elsewhere.   
Even his ears blocked out the drone from the television as he struggled to keep himself from giving in to his captor. But he knew he couldn’t hold out forever – and Fenton was evidently practised in what he was doing.  
It didn’t take all that long before Taylor felt the release.


	58. Chapter 58

Taylor wiped at his eyes as he angrily scrubbed at the floor. Fenton had left him for the night with instructions to clean up his mess before he would return in the morning to fetch the furniture.   
He’d slowly begun to realise that he would never again have a normal birthday, a normal Christmas, or a normal Valentines. Even if he somehow escaped tomorrow he’d always have the memories of what had occurred down here. While he was already having recurring nightmares he knew it would be different waking to a supposed ‘normal’ life and having to pretend as if nothing was wrong, as opposed to waking here in the dungeon and just taking it as commonplace. Fenton knew he was having nightmares and took it as normal no matter how extreme they became, so wouldn’t offer Taylor any kind of solace through medication or otherwise. If Taylor happened to violently wake after having one while Fenton was in bed with him, all he got was beaten for it.  
He stopped cleaning in aggravation to try and clear his eyes. He was concentrating so much on trying to keep himself together that when he heard his brother’s voice he thought he was imagining it at first.  
“ _…So today, on what should have been our brother’s 31st birthday…_ ” Zac was reading at what appeared to be a small press conference, “ _we regret to announce the dissolution of Hanson as a band._ ”  
“What?!” Taylor dropped everything, using the table to pull himself to his feet.  
“ _Myself and Isaac,_ ” who was standing off to the side, “ _have many other ventures on the side that will continue, along with our record company 3CG Records, but we feel it only right to not continue with the band known as ‘Hanson’ out of respect for our brother’s memory._ ”  
“It’s too soon!” Taylor yelled at the screen, “it’s only been three months!”  
“ _Hanson became emotional during questioning, only reiterating that the family had heard nothing further from investigations into his brother’s disappearance…_ ” the anchor came back as a montage showed from what Taylor assumed to be the conference that evening, “ _authorities remain baffled at the lack of clues left behind, but insist the investigation is ongoing._ ”  
CNN offered nothing else. Taylor remained watching the screen wide-eyed in the hopes they’d rerun the story, but he eventually fell back into the chair with his mind racing.  
Realistically he knew that his brothers wouldn’t have wanted to continue without him – not as ‘the band’ per se – but he hadn’t thought it would come to a head this soon either. He’d hoped to escape before they’d even have to worry about it.   
The realisation that he’d now spent over three months trying wasn’t stirring his optimism.   
But the band had had breaks longer than three months in the past. This made him again wonder how much strain his disappearance was putting on the family as a whole. He already knew – and had enough of a hint from Fenton – the pressure it was putting on Natalie, but he didn’t know and couldn’t know what effect it was having on his brothers, his parents or his other siblings. Chances were he wouldn’t find out until he managed to escape.  
His worst fear at this point would be if any of them were to fall into ill health because of him.  
Thinking again of how Fenton was still seeing Natalie – and taking care of her stress from the situation he’d caused – he once again thought back to the day he’d been taken. He was already struggling to keep all the details fresh in his mind, despite going over them constantly to try and figure out how Fenton had gotten away with it so easily. Perhaps the clue to his escape lay there somewhere.  
As he was mulling it over he caught sight of some mess left on one of the table legs. With a groan he slid out from the chair and fell to his knees again, retrieving the cloth from where he’d dropped it and getting back to work. Fenton would want everything spotless by morning, despite how much sleep Taylor might lose over it.  
He’d been back to it only a few minutes before the light suddenly turned off. Unable to continue without seeing what he was doing, he gave in and set the pail aside before leaning over the chair to watch CNN a while longer. Their pattern told him it would be another half hour before they _might_ replay the story, but if they did he was going to make sure he caught it from the start this time. Maybe he’d missed something Zac had said – or the reporter had said – that would make more sense to him.  
He struggled to stay awake the entire time, but an hour passed and the story wasn’t replayed. Finally giving in he dejectedly made his way back to the bed to retire for the night, hoping they might replay it again come morning.

*

Taylor didn’t wake up until Fenton was halfway down the stairs in the morning. He’d exhausted himself the night before in more ways than one and it had already taken its toll. Knowing it was a Saturday and that Fenton had to work, he forced himself to sit up and prepare his stomach for breakfast.  
Fenton didn’t speak a word to him before collecting the extra chair and table and returning them upstairs. Taylor took the chance to use his bathroom and move to the end of the bed to wait. Fenton fussed around upstairs for a while longer as Taylor struggled to wake himself up before finally bringing down a couple of pancakes with an oddly coloured butter at the side.  
Taylor sat himself on the floor to use the bed as a table while Fenton left the basement again. He kept an eye to CNN as he began to remember the night before, already wondering if he’d imagined the story as some kind of post-traumatic stress induced hallucination.   
But whether or not the story had existed, he remembered his thoughts about the day he’d been taken. He already knew that Fenton must have dealt with anything that could lead the authorities to him or surely they would have shown up by now, but there were certainly a few things that didn’t quite add up just yet.  
So when Fenton returned to the basement, Taylor cleared his throat.  
“What did you do with my car?” he asked, unsure if he’d even get an answer.  
Fenton paused, surprised at the question. He glanced toward the television and Taylor was suddenly glad the story hadn’t replayed yet.  
“It was disposed of quickly,” he replied, before making his way to the rack.  
“How?” Taylor frowned, “where? Did you destroy it or just dump it? Did they ever find it?”  
Fenton retrieved the muzzle and made his way back to the bed as Taylor spoke.  
“I don’t believe it was ever found,” he seemed unsure, “finish your breakfast.”  
“You don’t know?” Taylor’s eyebrows rose.  
He always figured Fenton would keep as close an eye on the case as he could, to make sure they weren’t getting close.  
“Finish your breakfast,” Fenton repeated, sterner this time.  
Taylor obeyed, trying to think of something to keep the line of conversation going. When he was done he pushed the plate aside.  
“Aren’t you worried they’ll link it to you?” he asked as Fenton handed him the gag.  
Fenton put a finger to his lips, indicating to be silent. Taylor knew then that he wouldn’t get an answer. With a sigh he fitted the gag and let Fenton lock it before leaving for the day.


	59. Chapter 59

Three days went by without another word from CNN. Taylor began to figure he was old news already and most people would presume he were either dead or had run off to live the good life in another country altogether. Maybe they thought he had a woman on the side and had run off to be with her. He just hoped Natalie of all people wouldn’t believe it.  
He was working on another small painting which would cover the last part of the canvas when a breaking news bulletin came across the screen.   
” _Fashion designer L’Wren Scott’s body was found in the apartment she shared with partner Mick Jagger, her death an apparent suicide…_ ”  
Taylor stepped back from the easel, his eyes glued to the television. He remembered L’Wren though not very well.   
He watched as the story played out, soon realising that Mick had been in Australia at the time. In fact, he was still there. His face paled at knowing Mick had been so far away from her at the time and unable to do anything about the suffering she must have been going through.  
Getting an overwhelming feeling of sadness, he took a step back to lean against the staircase and slide to the floor. Once again he was jolted with the reminder of his mortality. It was easy to forget day after day in the basement that this couldn’t go on forever, and that he was either going to die down here or finally escape.  
But if he did die in the dungeon, who would ever know? Would Fenton decide to tell anybody? Or would he just finally have disappeared forever?  
He covered his eyes as he felt the tears forming again. He wasn’t sure if it’d be better for her to find out and get that closure, or for her to continue having hope when there wasn’t any.  
Maybe she’d already lost hope. His brothers already seemed to.  
He’d spent the last day or so trying to convince himself he’d imagined the press conference. A large part of what was convincing him to hold on was that he had the band to get back to. The most he’d heard in the way of music down here were the short snippets from news stories, despite random music videos continuing to play on the second screen in silence. In the first weeks of his captivity he hadn’t considered the thought of needing anything but freedom down here, but he increasingly found his fingers itching to find a different set of keys.   
For the first time in living memory he was devoid of inspiration for original melody or lyric, but the need to simply play something he knew well was haunting him. More and more it began to feel as if everything Taylor’s spirit had ever been drawn to was slipping to be as far away as the sun itself.  
With the muzzle on all day he couldn’t even sing.  
He almost smirked at the thought, remembering back to a time when his brothers would have loved the option to force him to stop. It was around the time he’d stopped going to see Fenton – after his last surgery which Fenton had referred. His breath caught in his throat a little as he thought back to how Fenton behaved during his few examinations, knowing now what he didn’t know then. The way he’d caressed his stomach, how he’d taken such a long time inspecting his throat…  
Taylor let his hand fall to the chain that held his ankles together. It hadn’t come off since replacing the casts, and he was already noticing similar rings appearing on his ankles to what he’d had on his wrists. For as light as the metal felt and as thin as the chain links were, any attempt to break them had been in vain. He also knew that if he did somehow get through them he still had the main ankle chain to contend with. That was both thicker and heavier and he’d certainly spent a great deal longer trying on that one already.   
Once again he wished he knew how to pick locks – or even had something he could try with. Fenton remained meticulous with what did and didn’t make it down into the basement on a daily basis.  
From his spot on the floor he looked up to the air conditioner. The ice surrounding it had gradually been melting over the past couple of weeks and he could now see slivers of sunlight once more. Realising that more had melted overnight (feeding the mould that had been growing on the wall beneath) he pulled himself to his feet to check how much more he could see through.  
With an awkward shuffle – though he’d been practising trying to move faster in the shackles – he reached out for the box to help him and pull himself into the wall. With the majority of ice gone he was able to fit at least two of his smaller fingers into the slot where the box lay. With where the sun sat at this time of morning none of it was coming into the room, but if he squinted he could barely make out the pattern of a fence a short distance away through the brightness. Unable to look for too long with the degeneration his eyes had already gone through, he soon had to step back and blink it away. The most he’d ever seen through the gap was the fence – just wide enough for it to be a driveway – and the concrete that led to it.   
Once his eyes were focused again they fell on the mould growing into the wall. He made a quick mental note to ask Fenton for some kind of cleaning agent specifically for mould before going back to fetch his cleaning pail. He might as well make a start on it so it wouldn’t be too hard to deal with later… or whenever Fenton decided to come through with the request.  
He was well and truly back to his painting by the time Fenton returned home from work. As per usual he managed to pack up and be ready just in time for Fenton to open the basement door. It had almost become some kind of sport to get the timing just right. He was also glad now that the ice had melted more he could hear Fenton’s car arriving a lot clearer.  
It was clear Fenton again didn’t plan to remove the gag until dinner time, as had become the routine. Taylor waited sitting on the floor as usual. Fenton had on or off days considering whether or not Taylor should get to sit on the bed and he found it easier just to save the possible argument and stay on the floor.   
When he finally brought down some kind of soup in which Taylor recognised contents from the meal the night before, Taylor set the bowl on the floor as Fenton unlocked the gag and pulled it free.  
“Are you shopping tomorrow?” was his first question.  
“I went on Sunday. You know that,” Fenton frowned, taking the gag to the stairs.  
Taylor grimaced a little knowing he was going to disinfect it and it would come back tasting horrible.  
“We need something for mould,” he called after him, “the wall under the air conditioner is getting gross!”  
“I’ll add it to the list,” Fenton replied before disappearing.  
Taking him at his word, Taylor got back to his dinner. It was getting rare for Fenton to join him during the week for it – and especially if it were just leftovers. He set to watching the television as the story on L’Wren Scott was replayed, momentarily having flashbacks to the morning but trying to shrug them off. The last thing he needed to add to his situation was further depression. He needed to have those moments when Fenton wasn’t home.  
Fenton returned with the gag some time later and went to put it on the rack, taking the time to check over the wall Taylor spoke of. Taylor watched him like a hawk trying to gauge his reaction. For someone who wanted the floor spotless he didn’t seem overly concerned about a wall that could be a potential health risk for the both of them. Clicking his tongue, he finally turned back.  
“It can wait until Sunday,” he insisted, “are you done?”  
Taylor nodded and handed him the empty bowl, sighing as the man left the basement again.


	60. Chapter 60

True to his word Fenton supplied the cleaning agent that weekend, and once Taylor was left alone for the day on the Tuesday he got straight to work on it.   
Another couple of weeks went by, and as March turned into April Taylor was finding that his biggest problem was becoming his lack of social interaction. It was a point he’d already touched on before and Fenton had ignored. Of course with the alternative to Fenton being Eric, Taylor hadn’t wanted to bring it up again.  
Because Penny’s birthday was fast approaching he was missing his kids more than ever before. Now that he’d completely filled the first canvas and had started on a corner of the second, he’d been using the backside of the first to paint himself small notes of reassurance and some notes to his family he knew they’d never read. He was careful to keep the canvas sitting against the wall on the other side of the closet where Fenton was unlikely to disturb it – and to make sure it didn’t look like it moved when he added anything – and so far he’d gotten away with it without Fenton noticing anything out of the ordinary.   
Today he added a simple ‘ _I miss you, baby girl._ ’  
He figured once he’d filled it he’d just paint over and start again. But for now he was keeping the words as small as the brush would allow and only adding short phrases at a time.  
By the time Fenton arrived home that day he was close to finishing the first section of the second canvas. In fact so close he was annoyed at being interrupted, but he had to obey Fenton’s law.  
When dinnertime came and Fenton finally removed the gag, Taylor wiped at his mouth before clearing his throat.  
“Can we talk?” he asked cautiously, unsure of what the reaction would be.  
Fenton paused after stepping back with the muzzle. A confused look crossed his face.  
“About what?” he asked.  
“I don’t know,” Taylor shrugged, looking across to the televisions, “I just want to talk.”  
Fenton gave him a more curious look before stepping over to place the muzzle on the rack. He paused while he was there, looking over the different pieces yet to be used. Taylor counted not being told to be quiet as a win and his mind started racing.  
“It’s just that… I don’t really have anyone to talk to,” he added somewhat nervously, “and it’s not a problem I’ve ever had before.”  
“You can talk to me,” Fenton insisted somewhat blandly, more distracted by his collection.  
“But you’re not an equal you’re an authority,” Taylor frowned, wondering how to make him understand.  
“Then you’ll have to make do.”  
Taylor ground his teeth at that, turning back to his dinner. He knew it was hopeless to think Fenton would ever let him contact anyone on the outside, but the thought had been there and now he’d let himself down again. He almost angrily cut into the small steak Fenton had supplied him with.  
“What do you want to talk about?” Fenton caught him off guard, still standing at the rack.  
“Um…” Taylor’s eyes darted as he tried to think.  
“If you wait until after you’ve eaten,” Fenton turned back suddenly, “would you do it blindfolded?”  
Taylor’s breath caught in his throat and his brow furrowed.  
“What?” he wasn’t sure he heard right.  
When he watched Fenton pull something black from the rack – soon realising it was indeed a blindfold – he felt himself shrink back a little.  
“Why?” was his next question, not taking his eyes away from it.  
“If I do you a favour I’d expect one in return. That’s all,” Fenton reasoned.  
“What do you want?” Taylor was scared to ask, but it had to be done.  
“I want you to wear the blindfold.”  
Taylor looked back at his dinner, suddenly not feeling up to eating it.   
“I’ll leave you for now,” Fenton assured, Taylor watching as he stepped over to the railing and left the blindfold there, “eat. I’ll be back soon.”  
And he made his way upstairs, leaving the door open.  
Taylor grunted to himself and held his head in his hands for a moment, wondering what he’d gotten himself into this time. When he looked up and saw the blindfold hanging in front of him it again confirmed he hadn’t just imagined it.  
What wouldn’t Fenton want him to see?  
He had to wait for a moment until his stomach settled down enough to eat again but he was soon able to get back to it. He finished in plenty of time before Fenton even returned to the basement, but as soon as he did Taylor was on guard. He went for the plate first and set it aside on the chair.  
“Why would you want me to wear a blindfold?” Taylor asked, rubbing his knee with the palm of his hand nervously.  
“Because you haven’t yet,” Fenton replied simply as he moved back to the rack, “baby steps, Taylor.”  
“But what do you have to hide?” Taylor was confused, “what don’t you want me to see?”  
“It’s not about hiding anything,” Fenton frowned as he returned – handcuffs in his hands, “it’s about heightening your other senses.”  
Taylor flinched as Fenton threw him the cuffs.  
“Put them on.”  
“Does it have to be tonight?” Taylor asked first, “you have work in the morning.”  
“Put them on,” Fenton’s voice was harsher.  
Knowing it could quickly take a bad turn, Taylor shifted himself before cuffing his own hands behind his back. The metal had no sooner clicked than Fenton took the blindfold and stepped closer.  
“Can I say when?” Taylor leant back against the bed warily.  
Fenton paused in front of him, his fingers already stretching the band. When Taylor realised he was waiting he took a few deep breaths. He wasn’t going to change his mind. That was certain.  
Taylor finally nodded and Fenton leant forward to slip it over his eyes. Once he had it on Fenton took hold of his shoulder.  
“Stand up,” he instructed.  
Taylor knew the blindfold hadn’t been all he wanted. Now he was fearful of just how Fenton expected his senses to be ‘heightened’. He felt Fenton guide him toward the staircase and hoped for a moment that he might take him upstairs. When Fenton instead instructed him to wait by the other side of the stairs, Taylor only felt confusion again as he listened to Fenton adjusting the chains.  
“Come on,” he jumped when Fenton suddenly took his arm again and guided him toward the closet.  
His heart jumped to his throat when he thought he might be headed for it, but soon realised he’d gone too far. Fenton had lengthened the chain. Instead he was led toward the canvas-covered boxes Taylor had never been able to inspect against the far wall. Taylor heard one of the covers being pulled aside and something wooden move before Fenton told him to sit on an edge.  
Taylor cautiously felt it with his hands, making out an edge roughly two inches thick.  
“In a moment I need you to lean back against me,” Fenton said softly, “and lift your legs over.”  
Taylor’s breathing quickened as he felt a wooden corner, and a giveaway metallic clasp.  
“Wait,” he turned his head, unsure of where Fenton was, “don’t… I don’t want to play this game!”


	61. Chapter 61

“Please just let me see it!”  
“See what?” Fenton asked calmly.  
“The…” Taylor didn’t want to speculate and give him ideas, “the whatever it is you’re putting me into!”  
“You don’t need to see it.”  
“I _really_ think I do!”  
Taylor flinched, losing his balance, as he felt Fenton pull him back into his body. His hands quickly struggled to find something to hold onto as Fenton started to lever him.  
“ _Don’t!_ ” Taylor was already willing to fall rather than be locked inside anything, and began to push back.  
“Hush,” Fenton’s voice remained soft no matter how loud Taylor’s got, “just lift your legs over and I promise you will stay there. You won’t have to move.”  
“Because I won’t be able to?!” he frowned.  
“You will still have to balance yourself,” Fenton was almost scornful, “only in the opposite direction.”  
Taylor stopped to take a few deep breaths and think it over. He didn’t have much time before Fenton pulled back on his shoulders again. With a forlorn moan he let him, gradually managing to get his chained feet over the wooden edge.  
He was surprised when they hit velvet, and for a moment panicked that it was some kind of tall coffin. But once he was sitting true to his word Fenton let his shoulders go.  
“Now,” Fenton began from somewhere behind him, “what did you want to talk about?”  
Taylor groaned, wishing he had something to lean forward onto.  
“I can’t…”he shook his head, “I’m not comfortable doing this here.”  
“You need to relax,” Fenton insisted, “nothing else is going to happen here.”  
“Then why do it?” Taylor tuned his head slightly, “just to scare me? Are you mad at me? If I did something wrong I’m sorry but I don’t know what it was!”  
“I’m not mad at you,” Fenton assured softly.  
“Then why?!”  
Taylor had to flinch when he felt Fenton’s hand go for the blindfold, finally pulling it from his eyes. He blinked furiously to quickly see where he was, his heart only racing further when he took in the box.  
It was indeed lined with red velvet, and reinforced with what looked like some kind of cushy soundproofing inside the inch-wide wooden outline. The outside was carved decoratively and the latch attached to the upstanding lid could easily fit a large padlock. The front side panel had three large holes which Taylor estimated he may have been able to fit a hand through at the most.   
Inside there were at least six metallic silver hoops, three on either side. What looked like two wooden breadbins sat at the right side, and he also took note of the small cleft near where he sat that a chain the size of the one on his ankle could easily fit through.  
“See?” he jumped when Fenton spoke, “it’s not so bad.”  
“What is this?” Taylor barely breathed, “is this an alternative to the closet?”  
“No,” Fenton said simply.  
“Then why would you want me in a box?!” Taylor was exasperated, “what did I do?!”  
“This is not a form of punishment,” Fenton stepped aside so Taylor didn’t have to turn so much to see him, “this is preparation. I need you to become comfortable with it, and I will leave you with it until you do.”  
Taylor turned to look back down toward the televisions. He didn’t know if Fenton meant he’d be chained to the box, or if he was just going to leave it in the open. Maybe he was just going to lock him in and hope that worked.  
“Why?” he finally asked, keeping his eyes down.  
“In a few weeks’ time I need to attend a medical conference in Illinois,” Fenton revealed, “I’ll need to be gone for three days.”  
“What?” Taylor faced paled, “you can’t… you can’t leave me here for three days!”  
“Obviously I’ll need you to be able to feed yourself while I’m gone,” Fenton ignored him becoming frantic, “so I installed this cooler to keep a supply of food for you.”  
He lifted the lid on one of the smaller wooden boxes, revealing the insulation inside.  
“You can’t _leave_ me here for three days!” Taylor reiterated, “what if something happens to you?! What if something goes wrong? What if I get sick? What if I…”  
He trailed off, trying not to bring all the penultimate worry back to the surface in Fenton’s presence.  
“I have accounted for that,” Fenton nodded, “I will be checking in with Eric periodically.”  
Once again Taylor began to feel sick to his stomach at the mention of the name. The idea of Eric having complete control over what happened to him made his knees weak.  
He seemed just as likely to leave him down there to die.  
“You’d leave me to Eric?” his voice broke, unable to lift his eyes.  
“Only if I had to,” Fenton reiterated, “as a last resort. Nothing is likely to happen.”  
Taylor stared down at his feet, feeling almost as though he were already trapped in it considering he couldn’t lift himself out.   
“Don’t be afraid of change,” Fenton stepped closer, sliding a hand onto Taylor’s shoulder again.  
“Change isn’t what I’m afraid of,” Taylor’s shoulders receded.  
“Then what are you afraid of?” Fenton’s voice seemed to turn sinister, “is it the dark?”  
Taylor closed his eyes, wishing Fenton would back away.   
“No,” he replied, just trying to keep Fenton talking at this point.  
Perhaps sensing the distress, Fenton used his other hand to slide his fingers through Taylor’s hair. Taylor leant back into the touch thankfully.   
“You have nothing to fear right now,” Fenton insisted calmly, “I only need you to get acquainted with it for now. You should have ample time between now and then to get yourself ready.”  
“When are you leaving?” Taylor’s eyes opened again.  
“Thursday the 17th,” Fenton replied openly, “I’ll be back the Sunday night.”  
“Do you really have to go?”  
Taylor already hated how desperate he sounded, but if there were any way he could keep Fenton there he was going to do it. Anything to keep Eric away, and anything to keep from being locked inside this box.  
“Yes,” the response made him cringe, “I’m afraid so. I will miss you.”  
Taylor was going to miss stretching his legs. He couldn’t miss fresh air because he already didn’t have any, but he knew he’d even miss the bed.  
“Would you kneel inside?”  
“No,” Taylor replied straight away, looking back in panic.  
“That’s okay,” Fenton assured, “lean back instead.”  
Taylor gulped slightly but did as instructed. Fenton helped him keep balance as he removed his legs from the box and was once again able to stand on the floor.


	62. Chapter 62

For the next few days Taylor’s chain returned to normal. Fenton managed to drag the heavy box closer to the bottom of the staircase, leaving it just the other side of Taylor’s easel and between the mirror and closet. Taylor found the reflection of the chest so distracting that he couldn’t bring himself to paint, and decided to focus again on the second encyclopaedia Fenton had given him on his birthday.  
It wasn’t long before Fenton began to realise his plan wasn’t working. Taylor had been avoiding the box to the point of not adding any more to his paintings, and the floorboards on that side were growing more and more dust as the days went by. Recognising the signs, Fenton decided to move Taylor’s anchor.  
Instead of the long chain Taylor found himself on the short one – tethered to the clasp on the box, which meant half the length was used simply to get to the floor. Fenton moved his bathroom and supplied water bottle accordingly and threw a pillow into the box itself, despite any and all of Taylor’s protests. Time had been running out and there was barely a week left before Fenton had to leave. He didn’t want Taylor suffering a heart attack while he was gone.  
Taylor meanwhile resigned himself to sleeping on the cold, hard floor. It wouldn’t be the first time and he was certain it wouldn’t be the last, but he couldn’t bring himself to sleep in the box no matter how inviting Fenton tried to make it appear. Another couple of days went by like it before Fenton gave him the ultimatum – to get in himself, or to be drugged and wake up locked inside. He left him for the night to think it over and Taylor finally forced himself to actually look into it.  
The lining was soft as he remembered, evidently built for some kind of comfort. But he knew his knees would be cramped inside and he’d barely be able to stretch his back straight.  
Still he wasn’t going to have a choice, and he knew that Fenton had the right idea. If he was going to survive the weekend he was going to have to somehow overcome his fear.  
He managed to pull himself to his feet for the first time in a day – he’d simply crawled the few feet he could for a while – and sit himself on the edge where Fenton had first put him. His eyes scanned the bottom for the hundredth time in case he’d missed anything before he leant over to balance himself with the upright lid so he could lift his feet into the box.   
He grunted as he did so, barely believing that he was giving in. He remembered back when he had more fight, when he would have fought to the last moment not to be forced in. Before the drugs had taken over. Before Eric.  
He stopped once he was sitting to take a few deep breaths. He let his toes feel the velvet and kept his eyes to the pillow, slowly trying to work himself up to at least kneel inside. He was petrified that if he fell asleep in there he’d wake up and it would be locked, despite Fenton’s reassurances to the contrary.   
In the end he decided on a failsafe, and it made him feel better about what he had to do. Keeping it in mind he finally pushed himself forward onto his knees, almost glad for the velvet beneath them after kneeling on floorboards the past few days. He kept hold of the edge with his hands as he turned to make sure Fenton hadn’t reappeared before taking another deep breath and laying himself down.  
His knees were cramped instantly against either side, his calves too long to fit sideways. But he didn’t stay like that long. Taking hold of one of the portholes he used it as leverage to kick his legs out again, the chain hitting the side of the box loudly as he settled them over the edge. Now he’d have plenty of warning if Fenton were to try and close the box while he slept.  
Ignoring that they’d probably lose circulation he closed his eyes and tried to force himself to keep calm. He knew sleep was a long way off yet but knew he’d have to try.  
Surprisingly he found himself getting sleepy quickly. It took him some time to realise that the box – aside from the closet – gave him his first taste of actual darkness since he’d been down here. With the light from the television on continuously he’d often found it hard to get a good night’s sleep, but with it only seeping slightly through the portholes the box allowed his eyes to relax a lot more.  
Focusing on this, he found it easier to finally drift off.

*

Taylor jolted awake to a thud, and leant up to see Fenton making his way down the stairs. While his instincts automatically told him to get out he was reluctantly finding the inside of the box cosy and warm – opposed to what he knew outside must be by now.  
Pulling his cold feet down into the box as he struggled to sit up, he purposely let his right arm fall outside to keep the lid from being closed. His eyes locked to Fenton as he went about his morning routine barely sending Taylor some confirmative glances.  
When he finally brought breakfast down he stopped awkwardly before the box.  
“Will you take it in there?” he looked confused.  
“Can I?” Taylor’s eyes didn’t rise above the bowl.  
“Did you close it?”  
Taylor couldn’t bring himself to say ‘no’, so simply shook his head.   
“Do not make a mess,” Fenton stepped closer to hand Taylor the bowl, “and I want you to close it today.”  
“What?” Taylor felt panic rising in his chest, “you want me to spend the day in the box, _today_?”  
Fenton shook his head, taking in the miscommunication.  
“In your own time,” he assured before returning to the stairs.  
Taylor watched him go, making sure he was at least halfway up before pulling his arm in. He let the bowl rest on his abdomen for a moment just so that he could feel the warmth from it, before stirring the oats and starting to eat.  
He had to get used to the idea of the box being closed eventually. It was already Tuesday and Fenton would be leaving on the Thursday. The deadline closing in was making his skin crawl in a similar way to when he used to dread Fenton returning from work in the evenings. While he still occasionally wished Fenton’s schedule would differ he was beginning to find the very limited social interaction he received from the man becoming a need. So far from dreading the attacks he knew were coming just about every day, he’d been concentrating on working out different ways to engage Fenton in conversation – more subtly than when he’d first tried and Fenton wanted something in return for doing him the favour. So far he’d managed to find out small but random pieces of information such as Fenton’s sister being two years younger than he, and them having an older brother who’d died as a teenager. Fenton refused to speak about their father but insisted their mother died peacefully in her sleep. Sometimes Taylor would feel the hint that perhaps Fenton had something to do with that, but considering his own dependence on him he tried not to entertain the thoughts.  
He wasn’t ready to know if Fenton had ultimate plans for him yet.  
When he heard the doctor returning he rushed to finish the porridge before kneeling up in the box to hand the bowl back and have the gag locked on. Fenton didn’t say a word but gave him a pointed look before he finished and took the bowl away. He didn’t need to say anything – Taylor knew very well what it meant.


	63. Chapter 63

Taylor made sure to check the latch over carefully to make sure there wasn’t any way to accidentally lock himself in. Any way he looked at it he was sure it needed a padlock – or three – and there didn’t appear to be any around that could randomly fall into place.  
With one last paranoid look around the basement to make sure he was alone, he finally gave in and lay down in the box to pull the lid closed over top of him. It closed with a deep thud and Taylor instantly felt the panic rise in his chest. It was no darker than it had been the night before but it was very different knowing the lid was closed.  
He took it for less than a minute before he reached up to push it open again.  
It wouldn’t budge.  
He paused for a moment, his mind unable to process how he couldn’t open it when it hadn’t been there seconds earlier. He tried again. It wouldn’t move.  
 _Come on!_  
He heard the latch rattling as he beat against the wood, before suddenly realising what must have happened and stopping to catch his breath. He shifted over to the nearest porthole and gingerly reached his hand through. It fit easier than he’d anticipated and he soon had his arm through up to his elbow.  
He could easily reach the latch from the first porthole and he could feel how the plate had fallen closed over the bracket. Relieved at knowing that no one – or nothing – had locked him in on purpose, he flipped the plate open and pushed the lid up with his left hand. Finally sitting up again he took a deep breath and turned his eyes to CNN for a momentary distraction.  
Once his heart rate had calmed for the most part he looked over the latch again. He saw how it had slipped down and took a quick look around for anything that might be able to stop it from happening again.  
His eyes set on his easel and he pulled himself from the box to make his way over. He fetched one of the smaller paintbrushes and shuffled back to check if it would fit through the bracket. It did, so he made sure it stayed before climbing back in. Before he could change his mind he closed the lid again. This time when he pushed back on it, it lifted freely.  
With a relieved sigh he lay back into the box and started to test how much he could move his legs. He figured out that if his ankles weren’t shackled he’d be able to pull his knees in to his chest one at a time, but he couldn’t do it with both. The lid was flat and gave him no room to sit up, but if he squashed his legs he could manoeuvre himself to barely see out of the first hole.  
He couldn’t fathom this being his prison for three whole days.  
But he’d dealt with worse. At least it wasn’t the closet. While he’d prefer to be able to stretch his legs at least it wasn’t a coffin…  
Instead of the thought setting off another minor panic attack, he began comparing a literal scenario of being buried alive to being figuratively buried in the basement. He knew he was underground – for the most part, at least up to his shoulders while standing – and there was no access to fresh air. He’d often equated his depression to drowning but it had never seemed quite the right analogy.  
Maybe he’d found a replacement.  
Contemplating this, he pushed the lid up and sat up to lean his arms over the edge of the box. Even if he’d made partial peace with it he needed to make the most of his limited freedoms while he still had them. He had no inclination to paint but he knew he wouldn’t be able to read in the box, so he reached down for where he’d sat the encyclopaedia aside it and pulled it in with him.

*

“Why were you asleep?”  
Taylor jolted up in the box, his arms flailing to find the edges. He looked up to see Fenton standing over him with a scornful look on his face.  
He’d fallen asleep. He hadn’t been ready for Fenton when he’d gotten home. He couldn’t apologise because he was still gagged, and he couldn’t answer Fenton’s question.  
He made to get out of the box until Fenton held up a hand.  
“Stay there,” he insisted, stepping aside.  
Taylor froze as Fenton moved over to the rack, but couldn’t see what he’d fetched. When he returned he realised it was small. When Fenton reached for the lid he knew it must have been a padlock.  
Taylor tried to protest through the gag but it didn’t work. Fenton closed the lid on him and Taylor heard the lock snap shut for the first time. He struggled to move himself around in the box so that he could see out of the porthole, but all he saw were Fenton’s legs walking away.  
As expected it was different with the box locked. Taylor waited until he was sure Fenton was far enough up the stairs before struggling to get his arm through the hole again. He could feel the padlock and feel that it was indeed locked – not just sitting there – and he groaned as he pulled his arm back.  
He couldn’t tell if this was just more preparation on Fenton’s part, or if this was actually punishment for not being ready in time. It seemed like an odd punishment considering what the weekend held for him anyway.  
But then he wasn’t sure how long Fenton would leave him in here. Maybe this was it? Maybe Fenton was going to leave him for an extra two days?  
He covered his face with his hands as he tried to will the thought from his mind. It didn’t make sense. Fenton would obviously want to rape him before he left for three days, and he didn’t have any food in the boxes yet. Fenton wouldn’t leave him to die without at least saying goodbye first.  
With that in mind he managed to calm himself down again. He just had to wait it out and see.  
Fenton didn’t return until CNN was well into their evening broadcast. Taylor had momentarily tried to use the light from the portholes to read his book which he still had in there with him, but the light was too dull and it was hurting his already tarnished eyes. He imagined his eyes hurt as much as they would if he and his brothers never emerged from the studios once in a while just to get fresh air and see daylight. He’d have to save up his biggest ‘I told you so’ ever for if he ever saw his brothers again.  
When Fenton came back Taylor could smell the food he brought with him. It was a pasta bake Fenton usually made on weekends, and supposedly a recipe from his mother. Taylor hazarded a guess he’d spent the last few absent hours working on it and once again he was confused by Fenton’s motives. But all the same Fenton was coming to unlock the box, and as soon as the lid opened Taylor sat himself up.  
“Steady,” Fenton insisted, eyes checking him over in his own time.  
Taylor used the moment to calm himself down again and Fenton waited until he did before removing the gag.  
“I’m sorry,” Taylor insisted, “I didn’t mean to-“  
Fenton put a finger to his lips making Taylor cut himself off. Instead he handed him the bowl.  
“You did well,” Fenton assured as Taylor hungrily dug in without a second thought, “apart from a minor setback of course. But this is to be expected on occasion…”


	64. Chapter 64

Thursday came soon enough and started like any other day. Fenton still had to work and Taylor wasn’t entirely sure what time his flight left that night. He spent most of the day doing stretches and jumping on the spot to try and get his blood pumping, knowing he was likely to suffer some circulation problems in the confines of the box for so long. When he finally gave in he ended up laying in the box with his legs stretched out over the side. He tried to straighten his knees as much as he could in the hopes it would make up for the cramping he knew was coming.  
Fenton had given him exercises to do – much like the ones he’d done when he’d been in the casts – but Taylor was already doubting their effectiveness. There wasn’t a failsafe. If Taylor found himself in too much pain he’d just have to bear it until Fenton made it home on Sunday night.   
If Taylor found himself in any kind of trouble at all he’d have to wait until Sunday night.  
This thought terrified him the most, and as a result he spent a lot of Thursday praying. Praying both that he would make it through, and that if he didn’t for his family to be protected in his absence.  
He’d been stretching again when he heard Fenton’s car returning. He knelt over the closed box to wait for him – the box having replaced the bed since his anchor had moved – debating with himself whether Fenton would really have the time and hoping he wouldn’t. When Fenton finally appeared he was carrying two full pails with him, and Taylor watched apprehensively as he brought them over to the box and set them down. He was definitely in a rush.  
“Open it,” he instructed, indicating the box.  
Taylor lifted the lid as Fenton fetched some bottles of water from the first pail. He leant past Taylor to set them inside along the back wall before opening the first of the small compartments inside. This one – unlike the other – was insulated. Fenton began to fill it with small zip-locked bags of dried food and a couple of pieces of fresh fruit. Taylor couldn’t remember the last time he’d had fruit – Fenton had never brought it down for him before – but he frowned when he saw only six bags go in. As small as his meals had been of late these appeared even smaller.  
Forced to wait until Fenton released him from the gag he simply sat back onto the floor to watch. The small compartment was soon full and Fenton closed it, setting the pail aside. He left the other against the staircase and made his way to the back of the box where he knelt and Taylor heard the sound of a small latch opening. Confused because he hadn’t noticed anything earlier, he shifted the chain and knelt up so he could try and see what Fenton was doing. The chain didn’t allow him to see without standing so he just settled to giving Fenton a curious look and hoping the doctor would look up to receive it.  
Fenton finished quickly and indicated for Taylor to move back when he stood up. Once Taylor had, he closed the lid, and made his way back around. With no answer Taylor attempted to see over the box again but he flinched back when he felt Fenton’s hand on his shoulder.  
“Kneel,” his voice came forcefully, and Taylor knew what it meant.  
Holding back a groan he fell to position on his knees, his fingers tracing the carving on the lid as he tried to ready himself. He heard Fenton’s belt buckle being undone and leant forward to wait, hoping he’d be gentle despite it being the last time for a while.  
Taylor felt the man’s hands gently trail over his hips, sending a shiver up his spine. With no other warning he suddenly grabbed onto the opposite edge of the box as Fenton thrust himself into him. His yelp was muffled as his pelvis hit the front edge hard, sure that it was going to leave a bruise on his now-prominent V cut. His eyes squeezed shut and he reminded himself that it would all be over soon as the heels of his hands became imprinted with the wooden carvings beneath them.  
Fenton wasn’t grotesque but he took his time more so than usual. When he was finally done Taylor collapsed forward, resting his head on the box as he attempted to recover. He heard Fenton step back to relieve himself in the empty pail and kept his eyes closed so he wouldn’t have to see it. He just hoped Fenton hadn’t made a mess and would expect him to clean it before he left.  
He almost jumped out of his skin when he felt Fenton’s hand on his. Reluctantly he let Fenton lift it from the box, the doctor gently trailing his fingers down to his wrist and adding pressure to his pulse. Taylor found it odd considering Fenton hadn’t checked his vitals in a long time, but he was caught off guard when the pressure suddenly snapped the thin bones of his wrist.  
He yelped behind the gag – louder this time – and pulled his wrist back into his chest the second Fenton let it go. The pain was something he hadn’t felt in a long time and he was so distracted by it he ignored Fenton returning to fetch the second pail. But he opened his eyes in time to see him coming back for him and he scrambled back as far as the chains would let him.   
“Calm down,” Fenton remained as placid as ever, “give me your hand.”  
Taylor’s protests rose in volume as he fell to his side in an effort to get away. But Fenton easily stepped past the chains and stooped to where Taylor had his arms curled in. Taylor was too weak to fight as he pulled the hand back – his adrenaline already well and truly worn out. Fenton set the pail down beside him and as Taylor struggled to sit himself up he soon saw it was half full of plaster.  
Why hadn’t he seen it before?  
“Calm down,” Fenton repeated as he struggled to set the bones in place under Taylor’s squirms, “I need to get this set and I’m already running late.”  
Taylor’s brow just furrowed in disbelief as his wits slowly returned to him. He managed to keep his arm still enough for Fenton to get the job done but remained struggling to catch his breath. When Fenton finally finished his work he stepped back to collect both pails and made his way to the stairs.  
“I’ll return with dinner. Get yourself ready,” he almost sounded scornful as he climbed.  
Taylor watched him leave before collapsing down onto his back and cradling his wrist. He couldn’t understand why Fenton had done it. He couldn’t think of anything he’d done wrong, nothing since falling asleep two days earlier to deserve anything of the sort. But at the same time Fenton often didn’t feel the need to explain anything he did, and perhaps he had his own reasons for doing it that he might not share with the class.  
Taylor was beginning to feel like Fenton’s penchant for playing God was going to drive him crazy more than anything else.  
He heard him upstairs in the kitchen rushing to prepare something to eat. One last meal out in the open before his three days of solitude. He was back in no time and Taylor forced himself to sit up. When Fenton set a small plate with a sandwich on the lid of the box Taylor was momentarily relieved he didn’t have to use tools. Fenton immediately stooped to remove the gag.  
“Hurry and eat,” he insisted, “I don’t have much time.”  
“What did I do?!” Taylor cried almost instantly, “I did everything you asked of me! I was doing stretches all day. I stayed in the box otherwise. I even closed it on myself a few times. What else did you want?! Why would you do this?!”  
“ _Eat!_ ” Fenton’s voice rose in kind, “I don’t have time for this!”  
“Then tell me why!” Taylor’s voice broke as he sat back still cradling the wrist, “why would you?!”  
“I saw you,” Fenton looked him in the eye, “you were playing with the lock when I locked you in the first time. I can’t have that happening while I’m not here.”  
“I wasn’t trying to get out,” Taylor rolled his eyes incredulously, “I just had to know for sure.”  
“And now we’ll both have peace of mind,” Fenton scorned, “ _eat_.”


	65. Chapter 65

“What were you doing over there?” Taylor frowned, “I mean around back?”  
“You need to eat,” Fenton scowled.  
“I am,” Taylor insisted, having only stopped for a breather, “I just want to know if it’s going to change anything.”  
“No,” Fenton turned his eyes away, “I installed a small septic tank. It will serve as your bathroom. You will access it through the second compartment.”  
He tapped the side of the box in indication, though it was closed.  
“…How?” Taylor’s eyebrows rose, “I can barely move in there, I can’t-“  
“I’ll supply you with a bedpan,” Fenton assured before turning to leave, “now _eat_. I won’t tell you again.”  
Taylor gulped slightly as he watched him leave. He’d just assumed he’d have to use one of the water bottles or some such. It sounded like it was going to be hard, but he figured he wouldn’t really know until he had to try it.   
He finished the sandwich in the time Fenton took to return with the bedpan and a couple of small white towels. Taylor recognised them as ones that Fenton used on occasion to wash his hair, and they always smelled of bleach.   
Fenton saw that he’d finished and came straight over. With a nod from him Taylor moved the plate, and Fenton used his free hand to unlatch and open the box. He set the bedpan in aside the second compartment and the towels he rolled up by the pillow. There was already less and less room to move in there Taylor could tell.  
“Get in,” Fenton ordered, stepping back.  
Taylor had known this moment was coming, but it still came as a jolt all the same. His mind raced to pull together all the last minute questions he’d had for Fenton, but suddenly he could only think of one.  
“Could you take the shackles off?” his brow furrowed hopefully, “I just… I can stretch easier in there, without them, and it’s not like I could run.”  
“Get in,” Fenton repeated, a little sterner.  
“Please?” Taylor’s voice softened, “it might be the last thing I ever ask of you.”  
“You’re going to be fine,” Fenton scorned, “now-“  
“Get in, I know,” Taylor hung his head in defeat.  
He reluctantly pulled himself to his knees, and then to his feet. Having had practise getting in and out with the shackles he found it easier to get himself in this time, but his emotions were already getting the better of him and he knew if he didn’t curb them it would only make Fenton angrier.  
Once he was sitting Fenton retrieved the padlock from where it had sat on the bottom of the latch for the past two days.   
“Actually…” Taylor’s voice broke a little, “if there is really only one more thing I can ask…”  
He took a deep breath, and without looking up he knew Fenton had paused.  
“If anything does happen, and I don’t make it out of here…” he brushed some hair aside, “can you _please_ somehow let them know I’m dead?”  
He glanced up at Fenton’s waist but wouldn’t look higher. The man hadn’t moved.  
“I just think it would be fair,” he frowned, trying to seem considerate, “and that if you could figure out a way to do it without being caught…”  
“You’ll be fine,” Fenton reiterated, the sound of his voice making Taylor jump slightly.  
But he’d gone for the keys on his belt. Watching hopefully, Taylor suddenly began to breathe easier when he went for the shackles with one.  
“Thank you,” he said softly, even before he had the first one unlocked.  
He freed both ankles – of course leaving the usual chain in place – before leaning over to put his left hand on the back of Taylor’s head. Taylor froze as he waited for the kiss Fenton planted on his forehead before he again stood and paused with his hand against the lid. Taylor took the hint and after a couple more deep breaths finally lay back onto the velvet. Fenton paused long enough for Taylor to look him in the eye once more before he closed the lid and slid the padlock into place. Taylor bit his lip as he heard the snap, followed by two smaller ones before Fenton stepped away. He heard him return the shackles to the rack before returning to collect the dinner plate and finally heading for the stairs.  
Taylor heard the door close and that was it. He didn’t hear Fenton’s car leaving, he didn’t even hear the front door.  
He was alone.  
The first thing he did was reach for the first compartment. He’d been practically salivating once he’d seen the two apples Fenton had put in there, so he dug around until he found one and instantly put it to his mouth for a bite. With an appreciative groan he closed his eyes as he savoured the taste and even the acid biting into his tongue. He hadn’t known he could ever miss a simple apple so much in his life.  
He knew he had a lot of time to waste so he didn’t bother hurrying to eat it. It was cold enough that the apple didn’t go very brown by the time he finished, and he figured it was an early opportunity to try out the tank. He could barely reach to move the lid of the second compartment with his fingertips, but relinquishing his hold on the apple core made it easier. When he collected it again he dropped it into the compartment, and instead of hearing a ‘thunk’ as he’d expected he heard it roll down a small diagonal before hitting liquid with a small splash. He grimaced a little already at the chemical smell and quickly closed the lid again. At least it didn’t fill the box.  
He sighed as he stared at the nearest porthole, suddenly wishing he’d thought to ask for a watch or a small digital clock. He knew he was barely in his first half hour and all he had to occupy himself with was the pain in his wrist.  
Fenton could have at least left him some painkillers. But then he couldn’t honestly say he wouldn’t be tempted to take them all in one go. It would have been a painful and lonely way to die but the ordeal would finally be over.   
The thought made him wonder when exactly he’d started to accept suicide as a way out. Most of the time when the idea came to him he’d dismiss it just as soon, but as the days and weeks wore on and it looked less likely that his time with Fenton would ever come to an end he had to admit to himself that maybe – just maybe – it would be an escape that Fenton couldn’t prevent.  
He covered his eyes with his hands and took another deep breath. If he kept this up he was going to be doing Fenton’s torture for him. He had to keep reminding himself that any small possibility for escape was enough to live for, and Fenton was only human. He wasn’t infallible. Sometime, somehow, he had to make a mistake. He just had to. No matter how long Taylor had to wait.  
He was going to see his kids again. He was going to see Natalie again. He was going to see his brothers again. There was absolutely no question of it in his mind. He just had to stay focused and not let the monotony of his repression plant the seeds of doubt.   
Instead, he needed to start thinking about what might happen when it was over. Instead of hoping he wouldn’t miss his kids growing up he needed to plan ahead for what he’d do if he actually did.


	66. Chapter 66

It was hard to grasp the concept of time in the box. The basement light was out, he couldn’t quite see where the sliver of sunlight sometimes hit the staircase from the portholes, and he definitely couldn’t see the television clearly enough to work out the timer. Instead he began trying to rely on CNN’s schedule and who was reporting at the time. He’d found himself consistently hungry for the past few weeks so even his stomach was no indication.  
When he’d felt himself starting to panic he just closed his eyes and resisted feeling for the lid he knew was there. A few times he’d even drifted off to sleep this way already, which meant when first nightfall came his sleep pattern was already out. He forced himself to stay awake for an extra hour or so to listen to CNN in the hopes of possibly sleeping in the next morning, but he still woke multiple times throughout the night. His knees already ached but at least his body temperature was keeping the box warm.  
When morning came and he realised he was awake for good he reached for his first bag of food. Fenton had evidently rationed two bags per day, but Taylor estimated what was in them wouldn’t even fill half a plate. Maybe Fenton figured he didn’t need the energy so why waste the money on food? But Taylor was already tempted to just eat everything at once and starve himself for the following two days. Having a full stomach for the first time since December might have been worth it. In order to eat he managed to manoeuvre himself onto his side and up onto the elbow of his plastered wrist. It was about as upright as he could manage.  
Breakfast was some kind of dried biscuit with herbs that he hadn’t had before. He awkwardly felt like he was digging in to a bag of chips. It was something else he hadn’t done in a long time, even before he’d been taken. Once he’d finished the bag he squashed it into the side of the first compartment before having to move himself again to be able to reach for one of the water bottles by his left shoulder.   
The bedpan slowly became easier to use each time he had to. He was able to use a small amount of water each time to clean it out so the box wouldn’t smell and he soon had a routine down pat. He’d known everything was going to be hard with the limited room to move, but it was suddenly a lot harder considering it now had to be one-handed.  
He spent most of the morning concentrating on doing his stretches. Admittedly the routine was not much different from if he’d been free to roam, with the one other main difference being that he wasn’t gagged. Once he finished going through his physical stretches he turned to a kind that he hadn’t done in months – vocal stretches. He almost felt insane doing his usual vocal exercises in the small confines of the box, but he had to admit to himself… it had a pretty good echo.  
He also couldn’t deny how good it felt to be able to raise his voice without having to worry about a reaction from Fenton. It was certainly scratchy with misuse but after an hour or so of practise he thought he had it almost right.  
So he tried it out by singing. At first he just sang some old ditties he’d otherwise hum to himself as he thought, but he slowly progressed to some of his own songs and some he’d been working on late in the year before.  
He couldn’t quite bring himself to include what they’d been working on the morning he’d been taken.  
He stopped for a drink after maybe two hours and figured he should focus on CNN for a while. He wasn’t sure what time of day it was but he hazarded a guess at around midday. He listened for a while, registering that it was indeed the reporter who was usually on around this time of day, before having another quick drink and clearing his throat. He was about to start on something else when the basement light suddenly came on.  
He froze. He’d heard the date from CNN and knew he hadn’t lost time as he had in the closet. It was only Friday. Fenton couldn’t be home yet. As he heard footsteps making their way down the stairs his heart skipped a beat when the only other option came to mind…  
Eric.  
Closing his eyes wasn’t going to stop whatever was coming, so Taylor struggled to push himself onto his side so that he could see out of the porthole and into the room. As soon as he saw the legs of the person come into view from the staircase he quickly ducked his head so that it was out of the light.  
Those legs didn’t belong to Eric.  
He tried to keep his breathing even as he listened for the footsteps and where they were going. From what he’d seen the person had been wearing all black clothing, so they very well could have been someone who knew Fenton was out of town and had come to rob him. Who knew what they might do if they found him in this position? Hoping that if he remained still enough the intruder wouldn’t think to try an obviously locked chest, he held his breath as he waited it out.  
There came a long and tense moment of silence. It was so quiet aside from the CNN drone that Taylor knew the person wasn’t moving. By the time three news stories had passed Taylor’s curiosity got the better of him and he gingerly leant up to take another careful look.  
His breath caught in his throat when he saw the dark figure standing aside the staircase staring right at the box. They’d been there long enough that Taylor knew it wasn’t coincidental. They had to know he was in there.  
But aside from there being someone _other than Eric_ who knew where he was, Taylor could now see that the intruder wasn’t just wearing black. The likely female figure was wearing some kind of latex cat suit, and their face – aside from their eyes – was also entirely covered.   
Taylor had to wonder if he was dreaming. Or alternatively, nightmaring. The pain in his wrist told him he was awake but the absurdness of the vision was telling his mind otherwise. For months he’d been wishing just for someone else to know that he was down here, but he wasn’t sure what to make of this encounter.  
And then the lights went out again.  
Taylor blanched, the chain on his ankle rattling slightly as he’d jumped. He could still see the figure from the light of the television, but now every time he blinked they seem to move. As they got closer his heart began to race before the sound of the latex creaking told Taylor they were just outside.  
Silence again.  
Taylor’s eyes darted from porthole to porthole as he tried to gauge where the person stood. He jumped again when he heard the padlock rattle and it unnerved him enough that he found his voice.  
“Who’s there?” he asked softly, still hoping he was just dreaming.  
Without Fenton to protect him he wouldn’t know what to expect from anyone else. Considering what Eric got away with when he knew very well Fenton was either in the next room or returning home soon, Taylor didn’t want to think about what he might do if he had free range.  
And this wasn’t even Eric. He had no idea who this was.   
The next thing he heard was the sound of a beep coming from something small and electronic. It sounded like it came from above him, but he couldn’t be sure.   
“What are you doing?!” his voice rose, his mind already giving him worst case scenarios up to – and including – the person planting a bomb on the chest.  
But he got no reply, and moments later footfalls told him the person had left the basement.


	67. Chapter 67

It took a good couple of hours before Taylor was again convinced he was alone in the basement and that whatever the electronic sound had been it wasn’t anything that was putting him in immediate danger. He’d eventually managed to turn himself onto his side enough so that he could fit his left hand through the centre porthole, but his arm was the wrong length to check on the padlock. Regardless, the lid still wouldn’t open, so whatever it had been hadn’t been anything to free him.  
Disappointed, but still not entirely sure he hadn’t imagined the whole thing, he concentrated on CNN for a while before repeating the stretches he’d done in the morning.   
Sleeping in the box was fitful yet again. Even after forcing himself to stay awake all day he couldn’t manage to sleep all the way through the night. Nightmares of things hovering outside the box just out of sight easily began to plague him, and at times when he suddenly woke from them he had to wonder if he’d ever actually fallen asleep or if he’d simply been hallucinating. Night terrors were the last thing he needed in the confines of the chest but they visited him all the same.  
The following morning after he’d had his rationed breakfast and done his stretches he once again started his vocal exercises. He figured he had two more days before he’d be under noise restriction again, and it wasn’t as if anyone outside could hear him working away in there. He’d been trying to imagine what kind of block Fenton lived on where no one could hear his cries for help in the first few weeks, but he’d also realised that even if some _had_ heard him not everyone would be likely to respond. There were certainly some bad neighbourhoods – just like anywhere else – and he had no idea if Fenton might be in one where cries for help were standard. Perhaps they thought it was a horror movie up too loud. Perhaps it was such an upper class area that the neighbours respectfully minded their own business. He was dying to find all this out.  
He’d even gotten to the point where he just wanted to know what Fenton’s house looked like from the outside. Was it dark and broken like he’d originally imagined? Or immaculate white weatherboard that reflected Fenton’s (at least partial) OCD? He was tempted once he was able to reach the canvas again to paint a few different versions of what it might be like and somehow trick Fenton into hinting what was closest. But Fenton didn’t often humour him in… anything, really… so he’d have to be smart about it. Working out how to trick Fenton alone would be something more to focus on.   
Once he’d been well and truly warmed up, Taylor started to sing again. This time after a couple of songs he’d wanted to just belt out over the past few months he began singing randomly about what the house might be like, and remembering seeing the plaques on the walls upstairs and wondering what they could be for. Most likely diplomas and such for Fenton’s medical education but that couldn’t be the only thing the man was proud enough to frame, surely. Maybe he could encourage Fenton to talk to him about his work without breaching any patient confidentiality. A lot of his patients would be people Taylor knew personally after all.  
The thought made him falter in his singing, and he stopped for a breather. _People he knew_ would still be seeing Fenton on a regular basis. Most of whom Fenton wouldn’t even know he had a relationship with, professional or otherwise. Not to mention of course Natalie. How would none of them have so much as an inkling of doubt when putting their trust in the hands of the man who’d held him captive for over four months?  
Taylor stopped and covered his eyes with his hands. He needed to keep it together. He almost felt like he needed to take a page from Fenton’s book and just forget about the outside world. All it was doing was helping drive him crazy. But at the same time if he started to forget… he might forget what he was fighting for. Despite not physically being able to fight for his life he needed to stay mentally capacitated just in case the chance arose. He had to keep reminding himself that that was the most important thing down here. The pure will to survive. He’d done it before, even if in a less literal sense. He could do it again. If he gave up now he might as well give in to everything Fenton wanted from him, and he wasn’t ready to do that. He wasn’t ready to sacrifice himself.  
He sighed as he rubbed his face and listened for CNN. His stomach was churning and he didn’t know how much longer he could hold out without eating the rest of the food. The current broadcast told him it was venturing on midday.   
Only a day and a half to go. Maybe he’d just starve himself on Sunday and eat everything else that night. Fenton was bound to feed him when he got home, right? For the first time he might be able to sleep with a full stomach.  
He was trying to work out if he’d be able to handle so much food at once after having so little for so long when he thought he heard a noise outside the box. Freezing in order to listen more closely, he soon heard the sound of the basement door being pulled open. He remained still until the light came on and he heard the footsteps on the stairs. This time, he recognised them.  
They belonged to Eric.  
“Shit,” he cursed under his breath before covering his mouth with his hand in case Eric had heard it.  
He supposed it didn’t matter. Eric obviously knew he was there. The man walked straight to the box, and though Taylor didn’t bother moving he could see Eric’s shadow across the portholes.   
He frowned when he heard another electronic beep. It reiterated that what had happened the day before had been real.  
“Still alive in there?” came Eric’s voice, instantly distracting him.  
Taylor squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t want to talk to Eric. He just wanted him to leave so he could work through the next day and a half in peace.  
A sudden loud thud on the lid scared him enough to make him yelp.  
“I’ll take that as a yes,” he heard a smirk.  
“Since when do you care?” Taylor frowned, his voice quieter than he’d meant it to be.  
“Since Jim told me to check on you. Gotta admit, was tempted not to.”  
Taylor heard him step aside, and watched as his shadow moved. He began to pray that Eric hadn’t brought bolt cutters with him.  
“Especially now that I see he has you so locked down there really wasn’t any point…”  
Taylor would have asked why Eric had bothered in the first place, but that gave him his answer. He winced a little and continued his prayer.  
“I’m sure he’ll come around. I’ll be back in no time.”  
“Leave me alone,” Taylor pleaded, closing his eyes again.  
They shot open when he heard Eric move. His footsteps returned to the box, and this time Taylor could tell he’d knelt down when he soon saw an eye looking through the porthole right at him. Taylor wasn’t sure if he could see him in the dark, but that possibly wasn’t the point.  
“Why would I want to do that?”  
Taylor covered his mouth again before he could say anything in rejoinder. In contrast to the past few days he was starting to mentally thank Fenton for locking him in.  
“…Especially when I might have something you want.”  
“I don’t want anything from you,” Taylor was scornful, “just leave me alone!”  
He watched as Eric moved again. The older man soon held up a small, metallic, coloured shape.  
“Not even this?” Eric mused.


	68. Chapter 68

“What’s the catch?” Taylor’s eyes were darting.  
“Catch?” Eric took it away from the hole, making Taylor push himself up a little.  
“You’re not giving it to me out of the goodness of your heart,” Taylor insisted, “you want something.”  
“True,” Eric conceded, setting it on the lid with a small clatter, “there is something I want. But I don’t feel the need to reward you for it.”  
“Then why?” Taylor frowned.  
“I have my reasons.”  
Taylor’s eyes narrowed as he picked up on the tone behind Eric’s words. Whatever his reasons were, this might as well have been a game to him.   
“What do you want?” Taylor figured he might as well ask.  
“While it left a lot to be desired, you weren’t all that bad with your hands,” Eric seemed to reason, “guess what part of me can fit into the chest with you?”  
“I can’t,” Taylor didn’t feel at all sorry for it.  
“Of course you can. Unless your hands are tied in there…”  
“Not _tied_ ,” Taylor looked down toward the white plaster.   
He flinched when he realised Eric was looking in on him again.  
“Show me,” he insisted.  
Taylor lifted his wrist so that it would be in the light and Eric could plainly see the plaster. His reaction was to chuckle and Taylor dropped it just as soon.   
“So Jim’s not afraid to dish it out after all.”  
“Nothing he can’t fix,” Taylor replied sullenly, already finding it odd that he was even talking to Eric.  
“However,” he soon continued, “your hands aren’t your only asset.”  
“Oh fuck you,” Taylor’s head hit the pillow.  
“I’d rather it the other way around.”  
“Go to hell!” Taylor’s voice rose, “you can’t touch me in here. I don’t have to do anything for you.”  
“You’re right about one thing,” Eric leant on the box to get to his feet.  
Taylor frowned at that, listening for where his footsteps led. They didn’t seem to go far before Eric returned to the box and set something on the floor beside it. Taylor heard him fussing around but didn’t want to ask what he was doing.   
However once it suddenly became darker in the box, Taylor leant up to find the lower porthole had been covered.  
“What are you doing?!” he called out, feeling his claustrophobia take hold already.  
“As you said, I can’t touch you…” Eric seemed to be in the process of covering the second hole, “but I can certainly make it a little more uncomfortable in there. I’m betting Jim made the chest air tight…”  
Taylor felt himself already starting to panic.  
“…Let’s see if there’s twenty-four hours of oxygen in there.”  
“You can’t do that!” Taylor instantly sat his right hand as far into the last porthole as he could, “if Fenton comes home and finds me-“  
“Dead?” Eric finished for him, “here’s a question for you. Exactly who is he going to tell?”  
Taylor froze, trying to catch his breath. He was sure Eric must have been able to hear his heart pounding it was so loud.   
“What?”  
“He can’t go to the police – it would ruin everything,” Eric reasoned, though he’d stopped what he was doing, “no one else who knows would care in the slightest.”  
“So you’d kill me for not…” Taylor couldn’t bring himself to say it.  
“Working out what you’re worth yet?”  
Taylor gulped at that, before biting into his left fist and letting his head hit the pillow again. He left his right hand in the gap on purpose, but it didn’t take long for Eric to sharply hit it with something. Taylor grunted and pulled it back before moaning as he covered his head.  
“Want some time to think about it? I’ve got all day. Of course, you might not…”  
Even as he spoke Eric continued his work on the second porthole. Taylor took a moment to pull himself together and by the time he had, Eric was done.  
“Wait!” his voice broke as Eric was about to start on the last one, “wait. Please, wait.”  
“For what?” Eric didn’t sound all that concerned, “I hope it’s for you to wet your mouth.”  
Taylor almost choked on bile, but managed to hold it down. There was practically nothing else in his stomach anyhow.  
“Just give me a second,” Taylor reached for his water bottles, of which he had only one and a half left.   
He grabbed the one that was half full and had a quick drink, already trying not to think about the mess this was going to make. The thoughts alone told him he’d already talked himself into it but he didn’t see any other choice. Whether Eric was bluffing or not he had the complete advantage.  
If this was what he wanted, he was going to get it eventually one way or another. Hopefully if he got it over and done with it would _be_ over and done with.  
“You’ve had a second,” Eric resumed work on the hole.  
“Okay!” Taylor cried out, “fine! Just stop.”  
He saw from the corner of his eye Eric move away from the porthole, and he could already hear him going for his belt. Taylor cringed as he tried to send his mind blank and forget what had happened with Fenton. He just couldn’t reason having the ability to reject it and giving in anyway.  
But he had to fight. If giving in to Eric meant that he survived another day, it was what he had to do.  
He heard the chain move before he felt it, but he suddenly found his ankle wrenched into the top corner of the box. He grunted as he struggled to stop it being squashed against the lid – Eric having evidently pulled the chain taut from the outside.  
“If I feel any teeth,” his voice came low in warning, “suffocation will be the least of your worries. You hear me?”  
“I hear you,” Taylor’s voice broke again before the chain was let go.  
He fell down onto his back again as he waited for Eric to prepare. He wasn’t bothering to uncover the holes in the meantime. Taylor had already tested the bottom one with his right foot and whatever Eric had used to block it wasn’t going to move without outside help.  
When a shadow covered the hole again Taylor knew what it must have been.  
“Suck it,” Eric’s voice was muffled as his appendage filled the gap.  
Now completely in the dark, Taylor couldn’t see it. He struggled to turn himself onto his side while wondering why he didn’t just offer to do it left handed.  
“Suck it!” Eric’s voice came louder, “time’s running out sonny!”  
Taylor closed his eyes – figuring he couldn’t see anyway – and felt for it with his left hand. Once he found it he gingerly took hold, counted to three, and opened his mouth.  
“That’s right,” he tried to ignore Eric’s taunts, “suck it good. Be gentle now. That’s it boy. We’ll make a whore out of you yet.”


	69. Chapter 69

Taylor almost choked as his hand scrambled for the water bottle. As soon as he had it he struggled to rip the cap off and pour what was left into his mouth. As soon as the water hit he gurgled as best he could before spitting it right back.  
Outside the box Eric was laughing.   
Taylor went for his last bottle and used it to gurgle a second time, before sealing the first and throwing it down toward his feet. He then grabbed one of the towels he’d been using to clean himself with, doused it with some water, and washed his face and shoulder. When he was done cleaning up he threw the towel to the other end of the box as well.  
“Hey.”  
His eyes went to the porthole where they met Eric’s again. The grin in them was unmistakable.   
“Would you look at that?” he smirked, “you really are a bitch in a box.”  
Taylor glared in his direction in time for him to move away. With a groan his head hit the pillow again, just as something clunked in beside it. Taylor jumped at the noise before fidgeting with his left hand to try and find it.   
As his fingers looped the cords of the ear buds he heard Eric redoing his belt.   
“Guess I’ll be back tomorrow.”  
“No!” Taylor yelped before he realised he had.  
“Oh yes,” Eric almost hummed, his enjoyment level rising seemingly whenever Taylor’s fear did.  
Taylor jumped at the sound of a large crack, only catching his breath again when more light suddenly filtered into the box. A second crack and the two portholes were finally uncovered.  
“Aren’t you people supposed to respect each other’s property?” Taylor’s voice was back to croaking almost unintelligibly.  
“’You people’?” a curiosity met Eric’s tone.  
“Yeah…” Taylor was unsure if he’d inadvertently insulted him or not, “you know, fetishists. Maybe…”  
He couldn’t think of any other term that wouldn’t for sure be an insult.   
“Don’t you have a code?” he gave up.  
“A code,” Eric repeated, as if deciding whether or not to humour him.  
Taylor knew that if he wasn’t going to, he might as well not say any more. So he waited. Eric finished replacing his pants and leant on the box to get to his feet, giving it a hit on the way up.  
“A toy is a toy around these parts.”  
Taylor felt his face go red, though he already knew it was what Eric thought of him.  
“Jim has certainly had his fill of playing with mine.”  
“You have slaves?” Taylor frowned, the word sounding odd as he spoke it.  
“One fulltime, others occasionally pass through,” Eric sighed, Taylor’s eyes going to the lid as it sounded like he took a seat on it, “if you train them right you can get a good price at auction.”  
Taylor started feeling sick again for a completely different reason. He’d often wondered if anything would happen to Fenton what Eric might do in his place. He was starting to get an idea.  
“Is that what you want Fenton to do?” he was afraid to ask, “to _train_ me?”  
“He’s already doing it in his own way, for his own purposes,” Eric considered, “not the way I’d handle it but he hasn’t complained yet. He must be doing something right. Even if you are still mostly defiant.”  
Taylor felt his face flush again. That had been something Eric didn’t need to pick up on. Despite Taylor’s newfound bravery from the protection of the chest.  
“How long has it been now?”  
“Just over four months,” Taylor replied instantly.  
“Hmm. Time flies when you’re having fun.”  
Taylor scowled at that.   
“And yet you’re still grasping, aren’t you? Still trying to hold onto that one small semblance of a life you used to have.”  
Taylor’s face fell as Eric smirked. He vaguely wondered if the reason Eric was still there was just to taunt him further.  
“I tell you. If you _were_ mine you would have given up a long time ago.”  
“I’ll never give up,” his voice was quiet, but forceful, “you don’t have what I have to go back to. There’s no possible way you could measure the faith I have inside me.”  
“Maybe not,” Eric mused, “but they all break eventually. One way or another.”  
Taylor looked toward the porthole, trying to find his shadow. He couldn’t see it without moving but he thought he might have glimpsed Eric’s pant leg.  
“I think the longest hold out came close to six months. Something about a boyfriend she had… I don’t know. Didn’t care.”  
Taylor’s brow furrowed at the thought of young girls being subject to Eric’s whims. From what time he’d already spent with Eric he couldn’t imagine it being an all-day every day torment for six whole months. At least Fenton had to work. Eric didn’t seem to have a job.  
He probably didn’t need one with the money he was making.  
“You’re a trafficker, aren’t you?” he asked as soon as the thought came to mind, “or a pimp?”  
“Such ugly terms,” Eric seemed to sigh, “I prefer entrepreneur.”  
“You couldn’t find someone for Fenton?”  
As much as he hated the idea of what they were doing, if anyone had been in line to take his place he had to jump on it.  
“No,” Eric replied coldly, “Jim has always been determined. When you have a lifelong obsession such as his it tends to take precedence no matter what else you do.”  
“Great,” Taylor gulped slightly, “lucky me.”  
“Lucky you indeed, to have a master like Jim.”  
Taylor frowned again as he heard Eric slide from the box and stretch his back out. Taylor rolled his eyes as he wished he could do the same. Or at least straighten his legs.  
“Why aren’t you silenced?” Eric sounded perplexed, pausing to wait for the answer.  
“So I could eat,” Taylor frowned, now unsure if Eric knew how long Fenton had left for.  
“He left you food?”  
“Of course.”  
“Like I said. You’re lucky to have him.”  
“You wouldn’t?” Taylor was suddenly worried again, despite knowing Fenton would be home the next day.  
“No, I wouldn’t,” Eric began to walk away, “but I wouldn’t tell them I was coming back either. I’ll see you tomorrow, bitch.”  
Taylor held back a groan as he listened to Eric ascend the stairs, the basement light going out almost as soon as he reached the landing and the door latching shut.   
Was it too much to hope he wouldn’t make it back before Fenton?  
Taylor rubbed his eyes and bit into his fist as he thought over their conversation. Maybe Fenton wasn’t all that bad, but he was still a kidnapper and a rapist. Still… he could have easily been Eric.


	70. Chapter 70

Once again Taylor didn’t sleep very well. Contrary to the box being the initial cause he’d almost found himself getting used to it, despite the aches in his knees and back. This time it was nightmares. It seemed like every time he closed his eyes the light would come on and Eric would be back.   
Sometimes it was the black figure. Which began to make him more and more sure that the original visit had been a nightmare in its own right. Even his wrist was hurting in his dreams. If they were in fact dreams and not hallucinations.  
Sometime around midnight he gave in to his stomach. He had to eat the rest of his food. It simply hadn’t been enough for three days, even by Fenton’s standards, and he’d decided it was worth it to go hungry the following day. As a result his stomach protested for an hour or so but he finally got some sleep.  
He woke up somewhere around the mid-morning broadcast and knew he was awake for good. The very idea that Eric could show up at any moment kept him alert from the second he remembered. Knowing he’d get fair warning via the light coming on, he took some time to centre himself before getting on with his stretches. Once he’d gone through them all he paused to listen to CNN for a while, before tentatively reaching for the iPod Eric had supplied him with. He hadn’t listened to it the night before – content to just try and sleep with the ear buds entwined in his fingers – but he knew he was going to run out of time today. He wasn’t sure what Fenton would think about finding an iPod in the box… he’d certainly never allowed Taylor to have one, and had vehemently been against the idea the few times it had come up.  
Taylor was also curious as to what Eric had put on there. For all he knew it could have been an audio file of Eric talking. Telling him how useless he was and how soon he’d be forgotten over and over. It could have been some sort of training method he hadn’t thought of yet. But he wasn’t going to find out by thinking about it.  
He slid the ear buds into his ears and turned the iPod on. The screen light was bright in the box and he had to close his eyes for a time at first, but he was soon able to at least read the playlist. There didn’t seem to be anything out of place though a lot of it was music Taylor wasn’t familiar with.  
He found himself suddenly longing for his own iPod with his own choices. But there was nothing he could do about that now.  
He set the playlist to random and selected the first song to come on screen. The iPod had barely half battery left and it wouldn’t last the whole list so he had to make the most of it while he could.  
As Donovan filled his ears he let his head rest on the pillow again and concentrated on ignoring the growls his stomach was already making.   
“ _'Cause I made my mind up you're going to be mine…_ ”  
His eyes shot open as he registered the lyrics.  
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said aloud, probably louder than intended.  
He frowned as he put a hand to his right ear to listen closer.  
“ _I know a beach where baby – it never ends. When you’ve made your mind up forever to be mine…_ ”  
“Asshole,” Taylor cussed under his breath, grabbing the iPod and skipping past _Sunshine Superman_.  
Billy Joel’s _Only The Good Die Young_ was next. Taylor immediately cursed Eric for tainting one of his favourite artists with the setting and the obvious relation to his situation, but he listened all the same. Despite knowing Eric’s reasons for adding it, it was good to have a small piece of home. Hopefully that counted as a backfire.  
However when the next song to come on was _These Walls_ , Taylor felt his eyes welling up. His thumb hovered over the skip button but he couldn’t bring himself to press it.   
This was not what he’d had in mind while writing this song.   
The light filled the box again as he hit the spindle and went to look through what other Hanson songs were on there. Aside from _These Walls_ the only other contribution was _Make It Out Alive_. Taylor was surprised there weren’t some more depressing songs chosen, but perhaps Eric had only come across the one album and thought something like _Me, Myself & I_ was too reassuring.  
With a soft groan Taylor dropped the iPod, deciding to let it run through. Maybe he could try and ignore the lyrics for the most part. He could listen to the music itself instead. Imagine himself playing to a crowd, his fingers rolling along the keys, knowing his brothers were right behind him…  
He became so caught up in the dream that by the time the next song started he’d fallen asleep. Finally, his dreams became actual dreams instead of nightmares. He wasn’t panicked into jolting awake, and his knees had long gone numb. He slept heavily and long.  
When his eyes finally opened again the music had stopped playing. The ear buds in his ears gave him a temporary false hope that he was somewhere else, but the filtered television light soon brought him back to reality. He lifted the iPod and pressed a few buttons but it soon proved dead.  
“Damn,” he sighed, pulling the buds out and setting it aside.  
He’d barely gotten three songs out of it. But at least it hadn’t had the effect Eric had probably intended. It had finally brought him peace for the first time in days.   
Once he’d properly woken up he paused to listen to CNN again. It was almost the evening bulletin. Frowning at how much time he’d lost he pushed himself up onto his right elbow and had a look out into the basement. Nothing seemed out of place – Eric couldn’t have been. He would have had to wake him up, surely. Especially if he wanted what Taylor thought he wanted.  
He watched the television for a while as he held himself up, again ignoring the sounds his stomach made. He watched as the afternoon broadcast switched to the evening one before falling down onto his side again. Fenton couldn’t be too far away.  
He wasn’t sure how he felt about Fenton’s return. On the one hand, freedom from the box. Someone to talk to. Being able to paint again and actually see that sliver of daylight. On the other, it was only less literal that he was confined in a box. The box was still there, it just became the basement itself. The chain would always be on his ankle.  
At least he might get fed though. He had to take it one step at a time.  
The light came on. Taylor swallowed hard, not daring to move. It had to be Eric because he hadn’t shown yet, but he was cutting it mighty close to when Fenton must have been due back.  
He heard Eric’s footsteps make their way down – faster than usual – and head straight for the box. He could already feel his heart racing and wondered how this was going to go.  
“Give it here,” his voice demanded.  
Taylor frowned, for a moment his brain refusing to process before he quickly collected the iPod and held it to the porthole. Eric snatched it away moments before Taylor heard a second set of footsteps on the stairs.  
“What are you doing?” Taylor’s eyes widened when he heard Fenton’s voice.  
“Checking he’s still alive,” Eric smirked in response, “that’s what you wanted, right?”  
Taylor leant himself up to look out at what was going on, but Eric was standing in front of the box.


	71. Chapter 71

“Move away,” Fenton ordered as he came closer.  
“Fine,” Eric was bland, “I wouldn’t dare get in the way of your little reunion.”  
As he stepped aside Taylor caught sight of Fenton for the first time, looking somewhat tired and worn. He shifted himself in the box as Fenton came closer, preparing for it to finally open.  
“Leave us,” Fenton insisted, “are you alright Taylor?”  
“I didn’t hurt your pet.”  
Taylor grit his teeth in the awkward moment of short silence that followed.  
“Taylor?”  
“I’m okay,” he cleared his throat, just wishing he’d unlock the box already.  
“See?”  
“Leave!” Fenton’s voice rose, “it’s been a long day and I’m tired. I will see you tomorrow.”  
Taylor listened for a reaction, but aside from a light huff heard nothing. Eric’s footsteps headed for the staircase and he made his way up.  
“Call me,” he insisted, his voice getting further away.  
Fenton seemed to wait until he was gone before Taylor heard the locks rattling. His knees had started aching again as if in anticipation, and he felt his heart race as if it couldn’t decide whether Fenton would welcome him warmly or with disdain. It took longer than Taylor thought it should, but finally after seventy-two hours the lid was pulled open.  
Taylor went to sit up straight away but grunted when Fenton held him back with a hand on his chest.  
“Your wrist,” Taylor saw his eyes to it, “has it been set?”  
“Of course,” Taylor was having trouble keeping himself up, “nothing’s changed, I haven’t done anything to it.”  
Fenton took his hand away and Taylor finally pulled himself up so he was sitting. His thigh muscles instantly ached as they stretched but he didn’t dare complain. He was just getting used to the movement and preparing to straighten his legs out when his back stiffened as Fenton took hold of his shoulders and caused him to look up.  
“I missed you,” Fenton said sincerely, a look in his eyes Taylor hadn’t seen before.  
He wasn’t sure how to react. In a moment of blind confusion, the first thing to come to mind was…  
“I missed you too.”  
He frowned as soon as he’d said it, but Fenton didn’t seem to notice. He let go of Taylor’s shoulders and took his left arm to check his pulse, Taylor having flashbacks to when his wrist was broken and preparing to pull away if it looked like he’d do it again. Once Fenton was satisfied he quickly put a hand to Taylor’s forehead to do a basic temperature check before he stepped back from the box.  
“Can I get out now?” Taylor wasn’t sure, his brow creasing as Fenton moved toward the rack.  
“Wait,” Fenton insisted, making Taylor groan.  
Instead he leant back against the side and lifted his feet onto the opposite edge. After taking a deep breath he gently stretched his legs so they were sticking straight out of the box. It hurt a lot more than he expected it to. When he heard the rattle of chains his eyes shot back to Fenton.   
He’d retrieved the shackles again.  
“Fenton…” he started shaking his head as the doctor returned to his side, “could I please just have a moment? I haven’t stretched my legs since…”  
His eyes wandered as he tried to remember. The shackles had gone on the moment the cast had come off.  
“Since Christmas,” he realised sullenly.  
Fenton had paused in his stride, but his expression hadn’t changed.   
“Just being able to walk normally would really mean a lot right now,” Taylor kept his eyes down, “and you don’t even have to do anything. You just have to not do something.”  
“You’re rambling,” Fenton’s voice made him jump again.  
“Sorry,” his brow furrowed, making the very sudden connection that he really had missed having someone to talk to.  
There was an awkward moment of silence between them as Taylor just stared down at the cast, until Fenton took a step back.  
“Stand up,” he instructed.  
Taylor looked up in surprise.   
“Really?” he had to make sure, suddenly unable to remember if he’d _ever_ had a request honoured before.  
At Fenton’s change of expression he decided to not wait until he changed his mind. Taylor quickly leant his right arm over the edge of the box and used that and his left hand to pull himself up onto a knee, taking a moment to get ready before pulling himself to his feet.  
He’d just manoeuvred his left leg out of the box – chain and all – when a sudden dizzy spell caused him to fall forward. He managed to land on his left knee outside of the box and use his left hand to catch himself but he still wasn’t fast enough to stop his right shoulder painfully connecting with the edge. He let out a grunt as he fell down onto his side to cradle it, looking up in time to see Fenton standing over him.  
“Are you alright?” the doctor was frowning.  
“I don’t know,” Taylor replied honestly, closing his eyes as he waited for the room to stop spinning.  
“What happened?” Fenton sounded confused, Taylor listening as his footsteps sounded around him while he went to check the box.  
“I just got dizzy,” Taylor frowned.  
He massaged his shoulder with his thumb as he waited, only opening his eyes again once the ringing in his ears had stopped. Fenton was standing over the box and frowning in his direction.  
“When did you last eat?” he demanded.  
“Last night,” Taylor admitted right away, not willing to risk this being something worse than just light-headedness for the sake of keeping in line.  
“You didn’t ration correctly.”  
“I was hungry!” Taylor wasn’t in the mood to humour him, “you didn’t give me enough! You never give me enough!”  
He flinched back as Fenton took a step closer, immediately falling quiet in order to avoid the kick he knew would come. He was still bruised at the pelvis from when Fenton had forced him against the box the few days earlier and he could now already feel a welt rising on his shoulder. Seeing his reaction seemed to calm Fenton.  
“You need to eat,” he said decidedly, closing the box before stepping past where Taylor lay.  
Taylor kept his eye on him as he made his way to the stairs. He still didn’t feel stable but he was well aware that Fenton was leaving him with only the ankle chain in restraint. As soon as Fenton disappeared Taylor sat himself up, but with a groan he had to lay back just as fast.  
The room was still spinning. His body just didn’t want to be upright yet.   
With another groan he covered his eyes with his left hand. Despite not having any kind of plan to put into action, he felt like he was letting yet another chance at freedom pass him by.


	72. Chapter 72

Taylor’s wits finally returned once he’d had – for his standards – a decent meal. It was only soup but at least it was a full bowl. Fenton also supplied him with more dry biscuits but he was careful not to take on too much after a full day of nothing. He sat by the bottom of the stairs and watched as Fenton cleaned out the trunk and removed the septic tank. He took his time to do it properly and when he was done he covered the trunk in the canvas sheeting once more. Taylor was relieved to see it packed away, though not as much as he would have been to see the closet door broken off.  
He made a mental note to try that out sometime.  
“Are you done?”  
Taylor hadn’t realised he’d zoned out until Fenton made him jump. He looked up to see him impatiently reaching for the soup bowl.  
“Yeah,” he handed it over, awkwardly scratching his shoulder once it was relinquished.  
Fenton took both the bowl and the tank toward the stairs, and Taylor tilted his head to listen to his footsteps leaving. He heard the taps going in the kitchen and the telling clangs of the steel buckets as he did the washing up. As Taylor eyed the packet of biscuits beside him deciding whether or not to start on them, Fenton returned to the basement earlier than expected.  
“Are you working tomorrow?” Taylor looked up as Fenton made it to the floor.  
“No. Stand up.”  
Taylor grimaced, not wanting to try again just yet. But at least he had the stairs to lean against here. He was a bit surprised when Fenton came to his side and offered his hand to help him up. Taylor took it and leant into the wall with his shoulder as he unsteadily pulled himself to his feet.  
With a relieved groan he leant back against the stairs and closed his eyes. The basement hadn’t become a rollercoaster this time but it was still moving.  
“How is that?” Fenton asked softly, taking hold of his shoulder.  
“Better,” he grimaced again.  
“Open your eyes.”  
Taylor struggled to open them at first, not really wanting to. Fenton took hold of his head and checked his left pupil before making sure he was stable against the stairs and finally letting him go.  
“You’ll be fine,” he insisted as he stepped away, “we’ll get some sleep soon. Stay there.”  
Taylor held back a groan at his plural, knowing Fenton planned to spend the night in the basement. He went back to holding his shoulder as Fenton headed upstairs again to finish whatever he’d been doing. It didn’t take long before he finally turned the lights off upstairs and came down again – heading straight for the rack once he did. Taylor’s eyes were glued as he tried to see what Fenton had gone for. When he saw it had been the handcuffs along with a short chain he frowned.  
“Fenton I’m in a cast,” his eyes followed the doctor as he took them around to the bed.  
“I am aware of that,” Fenton didn’t scoff, merely informed.  
Taylor shifted so he could see through the rungs as Fenton locked the chain to a hole in the very centre of the bedhead. Still confused because it was the wrong side for his free arm, he gingerly began to make his way over when Fenton beckoned. He kept a hold of the stair rails and the edge of the bed for balance but soon made his way to his usual side, and at Fenton’s indication got himself into bed as per usual. Once he was down Fenton knelt across the opposite side and took Taylor’s left hand to meet the cuff not attached to the chain.   
“I’m going to lose the feeling in my arm,” Taylor’s eyebrows rose, his voice soft and uncertain.  
“Not if you stay on your side,” Fenton assured, leaving him there as he went to switch off the light.  
In his absence Taylor pulled on the chain, using the leverage to pull himself up onto his right side. He was laying awkwardly on his right arm but short of landing on his stomach he couldn’t see another way that this would possibly be comfortable enough to sleep with.  
He definitely didn’t want to sleep on his stomach with Fenton spending the night.  
As Fenton got into bed beside him, Taylor realised just why the chain sat where it did. It was forcing Taylor to face his captor, where if he’d had the freedom he would have faced away. As if to prove his suspicion, Fenton settled onto his left side with a sigh.  
“Why did you…?”  
“I like looking at you,” Fenton cut him off, as if he knew the question were coming.  
 _That’s not creepy at all._  
“You don’t do it enough already?” he said aloud, somewhat awkwardly.  
“I want to look you in the eye,” Fenton’s voice fell just as soft, his stare sending yet another shiver down Taylor’s spine.  
“Why now?” Taylor tried to focus elsewhere, “you usually avoid eye contact.”  
“Because I missed them.”  
Taylor flinched as Fenton’s hand came to rest on his left arm but he had nowhere to go. He knew Fenton could feel the goose bumps forming and what little hair he had begin to stand on end.  
“Are you still afraid of me?” Fenton didn’t seem sure.  
“Should I be?” Taylor’s eyes darted back.  
“Of course not,” Fenton’s look turned to a frown, “you’ve been doing well.”  
Taylor’s gaze fell to the cuffs. He knew Fenton was referencing his lack of fighting spirit of late, but he just purely hadn’t had the energy to keep running the hamster wheel. There wasn’t going to be anything that would get him out of this basement. Not until Fenton either slipped up or had a complete change of heart.  
“You know this is wrong, don’t you?” his eyes narrowed, trying to at least quell his speculation on the doctor maybe needing mental help, “there are people out there who go through this kind of thing a matter of days and they wind up needing therapy for the rest of their lives. You’re not giving me the chance to heal. I just have to deal and move on, day to day.”  
“What do you need to heal?” Fenton’s frown remained, “the cast will be removed in five weeks. No earlier.”  
“That’s not what I mean,” Taylor tried to shift on the bed, soon giving in and returning to the same spot, “I just want to know that _you know_ that what you’re doing is wrong. That this isn’t normal. That it’s isn’t ‘okay’.”  
The look of confusion on Fenton’s face made Taylor’s brow furrow. He began to feel as though his fear was already being realised. Fenton took his time to reply and for a moment Taylor thought he wouldn’t.  
“When we make love,” he began carefully, “nothing has ever felt more right to me.”  
“ _Rape_ ,” Taylor corrected, trying to ignore the rest, “it’s rape, Fenton.”  
“I wish you wouldn’t call it that.”  
“Not calling it that doesn’t make it something different,” Taylor frowned, “it is what it is, and it doesn’t involve consent.”  
“Are you going to reject me?” Fenton frowned again.  
Taylor rolled his eyes at that. If only he _could_. But his first thought – once again – was Eric.  
“Right now I will do anything to keep you happy,” he hated to admit, “but it’s only because keeping you happy means that I survive another day.”


	73. Chapter 73

Fenton fell asleep before Taylor could get much more out of him. The plane trips had evidently tired him out. Taylor on the other hand, having had ample time to sleep while in the box, spent the night drifting in and out of consciousness… always waking to look straight into the face of his captor.  
He wasn’t really listening to the morning bulletin on CNN. It was back to being a senseless drone in the background, and the morning reporter wasn’t a favourite. But when he heard a certain word he couldn’t help but jump up as far as he could.  
“Easter?” his eyes darted across the basement tiredly, “it’s Easter?”  
Fenton grumbled beside him and shifted in his sleep. The movement had only been enough to disturb, not awaken. Fenton had been getting used to Taylor’s night terrors and barely reacted to them anymore.  
Once Taylor’s eyes adjusted in the darkness he watched the screen for any kind of evidence that what he’d heard had been true, but the story had moved on. Feeling the familiar pangs of defeat he lay back on the pillow once again.  
His first Easter away from home. Fenton had already taken Christmas, his birthday, and Valentine’s. Now he’d taken Easter from him as well.  
Fenton probably hadn’t even thought about the holiday with having to go to Illinois. He certainly hadn’t mentioned it, and Taylor had all but forgotten it was coming up. The days had already melded into one long never-ending stream of time so that any one day out of the ordinary had begun to seem just a distant memory.   
Spending time in the trunk had almost been like a vacation. Just for something different.  
He’d almost fallen asleep again – thinking of all the places he would have hidden Easter eggs for the children and wondering where Natalie would have instead – when his eyes shot open yet again.  
There were footsteps overhead.  
Knowing very well that if he were to make any kind of sound loud enough to alert them Fenton would surely wake, he grit his teeth as his mind raced for an alternative. But he didn’t have time between hearing the movement and the sudden loud knock that hit the basement door.  
The next thing he knew, Fenton’s hand was covering his mouth. His startled cry was muffled as he processed what had happened, his eyes darting to Fenton who was listening intently.  
A moment of tense silence passed – Taylor unable to move – before it was broken by a voice.  
“You busy, Jim?!”  
Taylor cringed when he registered it was Eric. Once again he’d allowed himself to futilely get his hopes up. Fenton removed his hand and stood from the bed with a short groan, ignoring the second knock as he made his way to the stairs. Taylor took advantage of his leave to manoeuvre himself under his left arm and lay on his back for the first time all night. He could easily see Fenton on the stairs from where he lay.  
“What is it?” Fenton only sounded tired as he answered the door, purposely not letting Eric through.  
“I’m running low.”  
Taylor frowned as he registered Eric’s voice lower. He knew Taylor was there. No one else would hear him.  
“I just got in last night, I don’t have anything on me,” Fenton insisted, “I can bring you some tomorrow.”  
“Tomorrow might be too late,” Eric actually sounded worried, making Taylor lean up a little to try and see him, “I wouldn’t be here if we didn’t have a problem already.”  
At the sound of the chain moving Fenton looked down to the bed. Seeing that Taylor’s attention had peaked, he stepped through the door and closed it behind him. Taylor cursed under his breath – the moment as intriguing as any soap opera he could remember – and sat up properly as he tried to hear them regardless. With their voices remaining low he could only make out a few words, but none of them made sense to him. With a sigh he knew he’d have to wait until Eric left to get any answers.  
He didn’t have to wait long. He soon heard Fenton escorting him out, but rather than returning to the basement straight away Taylor heard him fumbling around in both the bathroom and kitchen. Unable to use the bathroom himself while he remained cuffed he could do nothing but wait again.  
Fenton took his time before returning. So long that Taylor almost fell asleep again. He watched Fenton descend the stairs before coming to unlock the cuff.  
“What was that about?” he asked straight away.  
“Nothing,” Fenton responded curtly, unhappy at being woken up the way he had been.  
“Nothing?” Taylor’s eyebrows rose as the cuff came free, “it sounded like you had something over on him. For once. What did he want from you?”  
“Stop asking.”  
Taylor blanched at the sudden order, looking up to the door again. Eric was definitely gone. As Fenton returned the cuffs and chain to the rack Taylor absently rubbed his wrist against his chest.  
“Who am I going to tell?” he didn’t have the nerve to look up.  
Fenton paused at that, before turning back to the stairs with an aggravated sigh.  
“It’s too early for this,” he muttered on his way up, closing the door as he left.  
Taylor listened for where his footsteps led, hearing them walk around the living room and kitchen again. For a moment he thought he heard him leave through the front door but return seconds later. Trying to ignore what kind of mood Fenton might now be in, Taylor dejectedly pulled himself from the bed and began his morning routine.  
Fenton went about the day as if it were back to a normal Sunday. He left for grocery shopping mid-morning, saying nothing more about Eric’s out-of-the-blue visit. Taylor didn’t ask again. When he returned from the store he remained upstairs until it was time for dinner, at which time he also brought down a small chocolate egg. Taylor barely thanked him though he was glad for the gesture.  
Before he retired to bed Fenton returned the shackles to Taylor’s ankles. Taylor knew he’d had more freedom than Fenton had initially planned and so didn’t argue the move. He’d tried to make the most of it while Fenton had been out, but it hadn’t felt like nearly enough to curb the ache in his hips. He was back to continually trying to find different ways to stretch the muscles – which Fenton’s exercises conveniently didn’t help with.  
For someone who’d been so active before his captivity he was sure he could already feel his body breaking down. He hadn’t had the nerve to look in the mirror for weeks now.  
Their weekly routine went on as if nothing had happened, and the rest of April easily began to slip away unnoticed. Taylor started painting again, with some difficulty, once he hadn’t seen Eric in a couple of weeks but the canvas was quickly running out and he couldn’t bring himself to tell Fenton. He knew there’d be another lecture about money problems and it might set him off. With his wrist in a cast until at least mid-May he didn’t want Fenton to suddenly get creative.  
At least he got another bottle of Mmmhops to commemorate Hanson Day. Taylor wondered if Fenton had bought a case and was just slowly working his way through. Nothing was said on CNN about the day, which made Taylor think they really had moved on from his story. He was dying to know what his brothers would have done with the plans they already had for this year but he couldn’t bring himself to ask Fenton if he knew anything.


	74. Chapter 74

It was a Monday, the 19th of May, when Taylor got his answer.  
Not having to work on Mondays Fenton had disappeared upstairs as usual to prepare their breakfast. When he suddenly returned without anything in his hands, Taylor sat up on the bed wondering why. Fenton made a beeline for the television and changed the channel.  
More than simply intrigued now, Taylor shifted to the end of the bed as Fenton returned upstairs. Advertisements were playing and Taylor couldn’t tell what channel Fenton had turned it to. Before he thought to ask, Fenton had disappeared.  
Frowning in confusion, he waited. He didn’t have to wait long.  
“ _Despite the many hits they’ve taken over the past five months, including the dissolution of the band itself, the remaining two Hanson brothers continue to surprise._ ”  
“ _That’s right. Hanson fans in the hundreds descended on Tulsa over the weekend for what was once a yearly celebration for the band, stemmed from the Mayor declaring May sixth to be ‘Hanson Day’ back in the late nineties…_ ”  
Taylor almost shot to his feet, only the reminding clinks of the shackles stopping him. Instead he fell to his knees and awkwardly crawled forward so he could see better.  
“ _This year the remaining brothers took it a step further, holding what they hope to be the first ‘Hop Jam’, a combined beer and music festival. We had reporters on the ground last night to speak with them about what this means for the brothers going forward…_ ”  
“ _We are very excited about the beer and we have been for a very long time-_ ”  
Taylor let out a surprised grunt and covered his mouth when Isaac came on screen. He willed his eyes not to tear up in case he were to miss anything.  
_“-and we did originally have plans to make this something where people could come together and share their passion for both beer_ and _music well before… well before…_ ”  
It didn’t help that Isaac couldn’t finish the sentence. Taylor grimaced at his struggle before the reporter took over.  
“ _It must be playing on your mind. Have you heard any more on the investigation into your brother’s disappearance?”_  
“ _It is ongoing, and that’s all I can really share_ ,” Isaac shrugged, “ _I mean we’ll pray every day – and we do – that he’s somewhere safe…_ ”  
Taylor was about to say aloud that it depended on his version of ‘safe’ before his breath caught in his throat again as Zac appeared to the left of the screen in the background. He’d made his way over to the interview, smiling until he heard what they were talking about.  
“ _…and that if he isn’t, he will come back to us one way or another. And that’s all we can really do at this point._ ”  
“ _That’s not to say that we’ve given up by any means,_ ” Zac interjected, “ _but there comes a point where everyone has to start thinking – what if this doesn’t end? How do we move on from this? So with or without Tay, this was going ahead._ ”  
He indicated the background, which just seemed to be a mass of people with distant live music.  
“ _And other things outside of this will go ahead too, because Tay would have wanted them to.”_  
“ _Will you be performing tonight yourselves?_ ”  
“ _No_ ,” Isaac shook his head instantly.  
“ _We won’t be,_ ” Zac agreed, “ _because we’re personally not ready yet, but that’s not to say it won’t happen in the future. Tonight we’ve got a bunch of friends of ours that are here to support us – some of them are dedicating the night to our brother – and that’s cool too. We hope there’s something here for everyone to enjoy. Today isn’t about us, it’s about the community and bringing everyone together for some awesome music and awesome beer to go with it._ ”  
The story cut back to the studio and Taylor let go of the tears he’d been holding. He’d never gone so long without hearing his brothers’ voices before and it hit him a lot harder than he’d imagined.  
But that wasn’t to take away from what they’d managed to do. He had a growing sense of pride that they’d still pulled this off, and it gave him a new sense of hope for their futures – with or without him in them.  
“Are you alright?”  
Taylor almost jumped out of his skin. He hadn’t heard Fenton come back down, but he was standing at the bottom of the stairs.  
He took a moment to pull himself together while still keeping an eye on the screen.  
“Yeah,” he lied, “sure.”  
He took a deep breath as Fenton stepped around him to turn the channel back to CNN, and quickly rubbed his eyes before Fenton could see them. When he finally looked up he saw that Fenton was holding a plate of toast and he gingerly took it when offered.  
Fenton gave him an affectionate pat on the head as he passed him again, heading back upstairs. Usually it would help Taylor to feel better but this time it just reiterated – once again – how trapped he really was. He once again felt the strain on his heart to be home with his family, and back at work with his brothers. It was nearing on half a year since that last day in the studio and he was very conscious of the anniversary coming up.  
Taylor took some time before he could work himself up enough to eat, but managed to finish his breakfast before Fenton came back. Instead of just taking the plate and disappearing again the doctor began to inspect his captive’s wrist plaster.  
“Is it coming off today?” Taylor was surprised to find his voice still raspy.  
“I would prefer to do it today rather than tomorrow,” Fenton didn’t seem to notice, “but that will depend on you.”  
Taylor knew it didn’t really depend on him – it depended on whether his wrist had actually healed or not – but Fenton seemed to have trouble distinguishing that line just as he had the line between love and rape. Taylor answered his questions honestly to the best of his ability, and after a thorough inspection (of course without access to an x-ray) Fenton conceded that he could remove it that day.  
It finally happened that afternoon and Fenton gave him some wrist exercises to do to work his strength up again. As if realising what he’d done and having second thoughts, he quickly returned the handcuffs to Taylor’s wrists.  
As Taylor slept alone that night he kept one ear tuned to CNN, just in case they were to mention his brothers at all. But apparently it wasn’t a big enough story for anything more than the local news team. Hope kept him awake for at least half the night but he soon gave in to his lethargy.  
Their week began as normal with nothing else being said. Taylor even began to wonder why Fenton had let him see the broadcast in the first place. He could easily have just watched it himself upstairs and Taylor would have been none the wiser. Regardless, he spent the better part of the week once again longing for home and it sent him into yet another quiet and depressive state. The urge to paint was once again gone and aside from just lying awake for hours on end he barely glanced at the encyclopaedia.  
It was Saturday before anything changed. Taylor was on the bed reading when he heard the front door open and close, and as he sat up to listen he knew straight away they weren’t Fenton’s steps.


	75. Chapter 75

When Eric opened the door Taylor immediately scooted to the end of the bed. He could tell right away that this wasn’t a social call. Eric had brought a duffel bag with him.  
As Taylor made it to the floor and reached for the chair to pull in front of himself as a last line of defence, Eric closed the door behind him and made his way down.  
“Afternoon Taylor,” he sounded pleased with himself as he came down.  
He dumped the duffel heavily onto the corner of the bed, not even looking in Taylor’s direction at first. Taylor watched with wide eyes as he pulled a similar set of keys from his belt as what Fenton had and suddenly came for him.  
He knew he had nowhere to go, but was surprised when Eric took hold of his wrists and began to unlock the cuffs using some sort of skeleton key. Once they were off Taylor tried to push himself backward but Eric grabbed hold of his right wrist which was still very tender to the touch. His yelp was muffled by the muzzle as usual.  
With his other hand Eric lazily unzipped his duffel, and Taylor knew Eric could feel his arm shaking. He didn’t know what to expect. He certainly hadn’t expected Eric to _have a key_.  
Eric pulled a similar mess of leather straps and buckles from his bag as Fenton had stashed in one of the lockers. Taylor recognised it right away as an arm binder and started shaking his head.  
“Lay down,” Eric said absently, expecting Taylor to easily do as he asked.  
When he felt Taylor’s resistance he made eye contact for the first time. Taylor was taken aback at the look in his eyes, and Eric took his moment of pause to roughly grab him by the throat.  
“Not following orders yet?” his voice was low and his breath smelled of Italian food, “what the Hell is wrong with you? _Get down!_ ”  
Eric used his grip to force Taylor down. With another grunt he face planted into the bed, and before he could push himself up Eric began forcing his left arm into the binder. Unable to fight back with his right he quickly gave in and let both arms be secured. He tried to keep his eyes open and focused on the wall so that his mind wouldn’t start tormenting him with what Eric could possibly want. It didn’t work.  
Once Eric was done with the binder he went back to the duffel. Taylor couldn’t see what he was doing but he soon felt leather covering his hands. At first he thought they were gloves but his hands were soon tightened into fists and he couldn’t open them again as hard as he tried. After his hands were secured Eric stepped away.  
Surprised that Eric hadn’t raped him then and there, Taylor waited a moment before sliding himself back onto his knees at the end of the bed. From there he could see that Eric had gone to the rack but he couldn’t at first tell what he was doing. When he heard the chains of the pulley rattling he cringed as he put two and two together.  
Eric was soon back to collect him, and despite going weak at the knees Eric managed to manoeuvre him over to the pulley. Ignoring Taylor’s groans he attached the chains to the end of the binder and once he pulled back on it Taylor was forced to lean forward as his arms painfully went up. Once the chain was secured Eric went back to the duffel.  
Taylor tried to look back at what was on his hands, but he couldn’t see for the muzzle. When he heard Eric coming back he looked to see him holding yet more leather straps. Shaped like some kind of claw, Taylor couldn’t stop Eric from securing it around his waist. Eric left it just tight enough that he couldn’t take a full breath.  
Another trip to the duffel saw him return with duct tape. Wondering what exactly Eric was going to do with it, he got his answer the moment Eric took up the skeleton key again and went for the lock on his gag.  
“Eric what are you doing?” the panic was evident in his voice the second the mask fell away, “Fenton’s going to be home soon. If he finds out-!”  
Taylor cut off as Eric roughly grabbed him by the hair. He didn’t look at all worried, which only made Taylor’s heart race faster.  
“You misinterpret what I’m doing here,” Eric said simply, “today is a special day, Taylor.”  
“What do you mean?” Taylor frowned, as Eric let him go to find the end of the tape, “what’s happening? What’s today?!”  
Eric didn’t reply before tightly placing the tape over his mouth. Taylor grunted at the force of it and at how tight Eric began wrapping his head, his next thought being that he hadn’t shaved in a week. Eric wrapped his head multiple times before biting off the end and smoothing it behind his ear. Then he dropped the roll and took Taylor’s face in his hands, forcing him to look him in the eye.  
“Why, today is Jim’s birthday,” he had an almost comedic glint in his eye, “I thought I’d do something special for him this year.”  
He gave his cheek a pat and let Taylor go as it slowly sank in, retrieving the tape and returning it to the duffel. His eyes went to the top of the stairs where he knew the door wasn’t locked. Fenton was due home in barely fifteen minutes. But that was long enough for Eric to do practically anything he wanted to in the meantime.  
Realising this Taylor couldn’t bring himself to look at what Eric was bringing over next. Until he held it right under his nose. Taylor could make out two different objects – one made of black rubber and the other a strap with two pointed hooks at one end. When he saw the spikes he instantly recoiled, but the chains were holding him firm and he had nowhere to go.  
“Jim has so many toys he hasn’t played with yet…” Eric began absently as he shook the rubber out, “I can’t imagine why, though I’d guess your lack of discipline has something to do with it. Do you know what these are?”  
He was holding the spikes. Taylor tried not to make it obvious as to whether he did or not, worried that Eric might feel the need to give him an example.  
“They sit in your nostrils,” Eric gave the punchline away anyway, “but first thing’s first.”  
Eric dropped the spikes to the ground as Taylor groaned into the tape again, before Taylor suddenly realised what the rubber object was. He once again tried pulling back on his arms to at least twist himself away, but Eric saw what he was doing and instead pulled Taylor’s head into his chest. Losing his balance as he was pulled forward he had to lean into Eric, and it was much easier for the older man to slip the thin hood over his head.  
Taylor panicked the moment everything went black. Eric had some trouble getting the hood over his hair at first so he couldn’t even move while Eric had hold, but as soon as the rubber came to rest under his chin Eric finally let him go.  
All he could smell was rubber, but there had to be air holes because he could still breathe. The rubber clung to his skin so tight it felt like tape itself and he could already tell that even if the tape hadn’t been there he wouldn’t have been able to move his jaw. Just as he began to feel the sweat trying to build on his forehead he let out a startled cry when he felt Eric’s hand take hold of his chin.  
Knowing what was coming he tried to curb his fear and brace himself, but when the spikes went in they hurt a lot more than he’d thought they would. They pushed his nose back against his face and forced him to hold his head back until he heard Eric snap a clip shut somewhere behind his head.  
When he heard Eric finally step away, he couldn’t move anything above his waist.


	76. Chapter 76

But Eric wasn’t nearly done. The next thing he did was unlock the shackles. Taylor tried to focus on the ankle chain – he barely felt it anymore, in a similar way to getting so used to wearing necklaces that they simply became a part of you – but it wasn’t touched. He tried to rebalance himself once the shackles were free but it was short lived. Instead of metal cuffs he soon felt leather going around his ankles.  
When he tried to balance himself by stepping forward a little, he yelped as he almost fell over. It took a moment to register exactly what Eric had done but with a quick test Taylor could feel the bar separating his legs at the ankles. The straps were attached to either end of the length leaving him unable to completely regain balance.  
His breathing heavied as he prepared for what might be next. He now couldn’t even give himself time to panic, he was focusing too hard on trying to gauge where Eric was and what he might do. After he felt Eric tighten the strapping around his arms a little – something now connecting them to the brace around his torso – he once again heard the rattle of chains. Wondering what was possibly left beside maybe his thighs, he wasn’t expecting Eric to lightly touch his chest, nor the searing pain that suddenly shot through it from his right nipple.  
His only guess was that Eric had pierced it somehow, but without much warning the same thing happened to his left. He tried in vain to shake his head and pull on the chain but the pain from the spikes easily rivalled the pain in his chest if he moved too far. In moments his nipples almost seemed to have numbed, only for the pain to blindingly return when it felt as if Eric were pulling down on them.  
“Calm down,” he barely heard Eric’s voice through the hood.  
He felt the man’s hand on his shoulder as he struggled to breathe for a moment.   
Where was Fenton? Surely he’d come home a little early if it were his birthday. He must have had his own plans in mind. Maybe even chocolate cake again. Oh how much Taylor wanted it to be Valentine’s instead right now…  
“We’re almost done,” Eric’s voice came again, “come on, I’m going easy on you!”  
He felt him give his shoulder a squeeze before letting go. Taylor had no idea what else at this point he could do, and was trying to force memories of the anal plug from his mind. He heard Eric grunt somewhere close to his head – thankfully not from behind him – before Eric suddenly took hold of him.  
Taylor froze, his breath now coming in shaky gasps. Eric had never touched him there before, and he couldn’t work out why he suddenly would now. Until he felt something cold and hard touch his skin followed by it clamping around his testicles.   
Tears started brewing in his eyes, only to mix in with the sweat already built up under the mask. He was once again left to ponder whether he’d somehow died and ended up in Hell. When Eric was finally done with his privates Taylor felt something slide around his neck – and just as he’d decided Eric was going to choke him when he sure couldn’t fight back, he felt the strap pull him further forward leaving him at an almost right angle. His back and arms were already screaming at him with aches and pains but there was nothing he could do. An earthquake couldn’t move him now.  
“Not as bad as you thought, is it?” Eric’s voice seemed to taunt from somewhere nearby, “Jim was obviously too scared to take the plunge, but I know what he’s into. This might just jumpstart a more… _beneficial_ relationship between the two of you.”  
Taylor flinched when he felt Eric’s hand on his head. He hadn’t sounded close enough to touch him.  
“Hopefully we won’t have to wait too long. If he has dinner plans elsewhere he didn’t invite me.”  
He heard the chair scrape across the ground and guessed that Eric had simply taken a seat to wait. Already feeling his arms shake with the pressure of their position, he began to pray vehemently for Fenton’s quick return. He’d see what Eric had done and get him out of it, he was sure. Fenton had never expressed a want to do anything this severe and he would surely be upset at Eric’s gall to go ahead and play without him.  
Wouldn’t he?  
Maybe Eric was right? Maybe this was what Fenton wanted all along and for some reason just hadn’t ‘taken the plunge’ before now. The idea alone terrified him. He already knew from past conversations that Fenton owned a hood, but he’d never actually seen it. He presumed it had been in one of the lockers all this time. He had no idea what else might be in there along with it…  
But Fenton had always been wary of upsetting him. Maybe he’d been afraid to push him too far too soon. Though five months in he would have thought Fenton would have used more than just the arm binder if he had intentions to go further in future.  
The thought reminded him once again that there was no set timeframe. Fenton could take all the time he needed.  
With a barely audible grunt he tried to twist his neck. The strap holding his nose back along with whatever sat around his neck made it difficult, but he could already feel a headache coming on both from his neck position and the pressure of the tight hood.  
His hearing was well tuned to Eric’s movements. He heard every small scrape of the chair against the floorboards. He heard Eric cough once or twice. He heard the short rattle of paper as if Eric were reading a magazine while he waited. He could hear possibly every few words from CNN. The one sound he wanted to hear, he didn’t. The sound of the door opening.  
He wished he could plead with Eric to at least loosen the restraints, but deep down he knew it wouldn’t have done any good. Eric thrived on this and he wanted to see him in pain. Taylor initially didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much it hurt already, but he soon gave in to letting out a few short grunts as he struggled to stay balanced. The pain in his chest wasn’t going away and his neck was only getting worse. He was just starting to worry about possibly dislocating it when the sound finally came.  
“Eric?”  
“Jim! Glad you’re home. Been waiting for you.”  
“I can see that…” Fenton sounded unsure as he made his way down, “what have you done?”  
“A present,” Eric sounded pleased with himself, “I forgot your birthday last year, remember? Thought I’d make up for it with a little something special.”  
Taylor tried to make some kind of discernable noise but nothing got through. He desperately just wanted Fenton to hold his head.  
“What is this?”  
“What you’ve been yet to do, for some stupid reason. I knew you’d like it.”  
Taylor flinched as he felt one of them touch the back of his neck. The next thing he felt was the spikes being gently removed. With a thankful groan he finally hung his head.  
“You _don’t_ like?” Eric sounded confused.  
There was no reply as Taylor felt Fenton feel for the bottom of the rubber hood. Once he got his fingers under it he gently pulled it free. Glad that Fenton didn’t seem to appreciate Eric’s additions he gave Fenton a thankful glance once he finally made eye contact. Fenton took his chin in his hand.  
“I need to see his eyes,” he said calmly.


	77. Chapter 77

“Want me to leave you two alone?” Eric offered as Taylor’s brow furrowed worriedly.  
“Not yet.”  
The look in Fenton’s eye was disconcerting to say the least. Taylor immediately avoided eye contact as Fenton began to stroke his hair.  
“What do you want me to do?”  
Fenton’s hand ventured down the back of Taylor’s neck, coming to rest at the top of the binder. Taylor could feel him fiddling with it but he didn’t feel any change. His hands had started to sweat inside the mitts and he could already feel his throat drying out.  
He must have given Eric some kind of silent indication, because Eric gave a short nod and headed for the rack. Taylor watched him go but with his back turned he couldn’t see what he selected. With Fenton working his way slowly behind him Taylor already had a feeling he knew what was coming, but Fenton wouldn’t do it with Eric in the room… surely?  
“This one?” Eric pulled a face as he held up the muzzle, “you want his head back?”  
Taylor let out a concerned grunt at that but again Fenton was silent. He had no warning at whether or not Fenton had agreed before Eric came back to roughly fit the muzzle onto his head. Once the straps had been buckled Eric pulled back on it to fasten it in a similar fashion to where the spikes had been, and once again Taylor’s neck began to ache almost instantly. As Eric stepped away Taylor closed his eyes as he felt himself tiredly begin to give in – Fenton’s hand now gently gracing his right cheek.  
“Are these yours?” he heard his voice.  
“Yes,” Eric responded, “keys are on the bed for when you’re ready. Just bring them back when you’re done.”  
”Thank you.”  
A moment of silence followed, Eric just watching Fenton curiously. Taylor couldn’t see anything behind him so was completely unaware of what he might have been doing.  
“What else do you have?” Fenton suddenly asked.  
Eric turned to go back to the duffel without another word, but a smirk on his face. When he pulled a long piece of wiring out with two small pads hanging from the frayed ends Taylor’s brow furrowed. He knew what that was.  
“Want to play with these?” Eric offered, holding them up.  
Taylor’s breathing quickened as he waited for Fenton’s response, but again it was inaudible. When Eric began to step closer as if Fenton had agreed, Taylor finally lost his nerve. Without the spikes he was able to twist his head – also able to twist his body at the hips – and along with various groans he could barely get through he knew the point had gotten across when Eric suddenly grabbed the top of the muzzle and held it firm.  
“Hey,” he began softly, trying to catch Taylor’s eye.  
“Be gentle,” came Fenton’s voice.  
It took Eric using his other hand to hold Taylor’s chin for him to give in. He blinked furiously to try and clear his eyes but Eric’s face was still a blur no matter how hard he tried.  
“Let’s get one thing clear,” Eric began slowly and clearly, “this gag, like every other you wear, is not to stop you from talking. It’s not to stop you from begging, and it’s not to stop any other noise. It is to _remind_ you that we simply do not care about anything you have to say, whether you consider it important or not.”  
Taylor closed his eyes at that, feeling at least a single tear fall. They shot open again when Eric roughly shook his head.  
“Understand?” he looked expectant.  
Taylor couldn’t nod. All he could do was grunt his acceptance. Once Eric finally let him go again he quickly closed his eyes.  
“Here,” he heard Eric pass them over, “you really need to spend some more time with this kid.”  
“He is not a child,” Fenton sounded defensive as he took them.  
“He is in regards to the lifestyle. You should have had him well and truly boned up by now,” Eric obviously disapproved, “yet he’s still not what you wanted, is he?”  
“You may leave now.”  
Taylor opened his eyes for that, wanting to visually confirm Eric’s absence. Eric had paused while giving Fenton a look that clearly showed how unimpressed he was.  
“If you insist,” he didn’t argue, “like I said, have fun. Might see you tomorrow.”  
With another smirk, he turned and headed for the stairs. Taylor felt his heart starting to race again as he wondered what Fenton would alone have in store for him, but before Eric had even closed the door he felt Fenton gently placing the pads on his inner thighs. With an inward groan he tried to prepare himself for what he knew was coming, only closing his eyes again once Eric had closed the front door.  
“Relax,” came Fenton’s voice in its usual calming tone, “this shouldn’t hurt.”  
It was going to hurt. Taylor knew it was going to hurt. He heard Fenton setting up the wires and felt his legs beginning to shake even just from holding his weight for so long. He knew they’d been losing strength at a fast rate over the past few months purely because he just hadn’t been using them. Aside from standing up to paint or to move when Fenton wanted him to, he spent most of his time in the basement either sitting or lying down. He’d of course kept up the exercises Fenton had wanted him to but all they seemed to do was keep him mobile – they didn’t offer him any strength.  
It was exactly what Fenton wanted. So that Taylor couldn’t overpower him again.  
He was wrenched from his thoughts by a sudden jolt of electricity running through his right leg. His cry was in audible as the leg went momentarily dead, and as it collapsed from under him he felt Fenton catch him at the hips. Just in time for him to find his footing again, Taylor felt the inevitable. Fenton went in almost straight away.  
Second to the act, Taylor’s biggest problem was balance. If he lost it and fell the pull on his arms almost felt like they would break. But his strength couldn’t match Fenton’s and if Fenton pushed… he went over. By the time Fenton had finished a second round he had trouble simply finding his feet.  
The next time he saw Fenton the man was naked from the waist down, and throbbing in a way that made Taylor wish he could scratch at his own eyes. He’d made his way to Taylor’s front and silently knelt in front of him, watching Taylor’s face with interest as he reached for the metal cage between his legs. Not sure what he was doing Taylor kept his eyes closed, hoping he’d had enough fun with the electrodes already.  
When he felt Fenton gently begin to rub to his right side, he let out a grunt and opened his eyes. Fenton’s eyes were on his face.  
“Shh…” he seemed to comfort, the look in his eye almost unnatural, “relax. Feel it.”  
Taylor grunted again and squeezed his eyes shut. He knew what Fenton was trying to do, and if Fenton wanted to do it… it was going to happen. But even as he felt himself give in he could feel the cage tightening around himself and suddenly realised with horror that it wasn’t going to fit.  
Barely a chuckle came from Fenton’s direction as he simply stirred him on.


	78. Chapter 78

Taylor tried to keep his breathing even. He doubted his ability to actually fall asleep, but if he could stay calm enough and get his heart back into a steady rhythm he might have just been able to nap.  
Fenton had earlier collapsed onto the bed and quickly fallen asleep without so much as a ‘goodnight’. He had however been kind enough to remove the nipple clamps and to dislodge the chain from the binder before he’d done so. This let Taylor fall forward onto his knees, but with his head still back he didn’t want to risk falling forward – as much as his body wanted him to lay down.  
He was left to spend the night with a straightened back, a sore neck, the bar still between his ankles and a mess on the floor beneath him. He tried to convince himself that it could have been worse – it could have been the closet, or Eric could have stayed – but as time went on even the closet began to look more inviting. At first he tried not to listen to CNN in an effort to close off his mind, but in the end he began to use it as a distraction from the pain he was in. He knew it was going to be a long night and Fenton hadn’t set an alarm.   
Indeed there came a sliver of sunlight from the air conditioner long before Fenton stirred. Taylor had managed to twist his head enough to be able to keep an eye on him through the strapping, and when he finally shifted on the bed it made Taylor jump. He’d managed to go into some sort of daze for the last few hours and the movement very suddenly broke his concentration.  
Once Fenton had moved enough to realise he was alone on the bed, he jumped up a little as if in surprise. It didn’t take long for him to lock eyes with Taylor and he could easily see the relief on the doctor’s face when he confirmed he wasn’t alone after all. Any hope Taylor had of Fenton setting him free right away was dashed when he lazily lay back down again.  
Just as Taylor was sure he was simply going back to sleep, the doctor finally pulled himself from the bed. He was still very naked but Taylor had gotten used to the sight already, particularly from the waist down. He just didn’t appreciate Fenton being turned on which of course happened pretty often.  
Fenton made his way over, and in his tired state simply stood to Taylor’s side and put a hand on his forehead.  
“You were good,” his voice rasped slightly and Taylor knew he could easily have kept sleeping, “you were very good. Thank you.”  
Taylor frowned at the misplaced gratitude before bracing himself as Fenton’s hand went to the binder. He felt him unhook the muzzle and with a pained groan he was finally able to lower his head. With the ache that had set in he couldn’t lower it as much as he wanted to, but he knew he could work on it if given the chance.  
Fenton also released the chain from around his neck that had been connected to the bar between his ankles, holding him hunched over for the past fifteen hours or so. Once that was done he made his way to the rack where the shackles had been replaced, and though he was evidently tired he was quick to replace the bar with them. It took Taylor a moment to be used to the mobility again, but Fenton didn’t seem like he was willing to wait. He took hold of the binder to pull Taylor to his feet, pushing him aside the tarp.  
“Go to the bed,” he instructed, looking over the mess that had been left behind from the night before.  
Taylor couldn’t argue, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to if he could. He did as he was told and headed for the bed, the ankle chain snaking along the floor behind him, and took a seat on the edge to wait. He watched as Fenton began to half-heartedly clean up the mess and wondered idly both why he hadn’t been made to do it, and if he might actually be able to get some sleep soon himself.  
Fenton made multiple trips both up and down the stairs for what seemed like forever, and disappeared upstairs with the door left open for a while. Taylor felt that he neither could nor would move from the bed even to try and see up the stairs. It just wasn’t worth the pain and effort.  
When Fenton finally did return he came with replacement pails from the day before and a couple of fresh towels. He set them aside in their usual place before turning to his captive.  
“Did you move?” he asked in a low tone.  
Taylor frowned at that – more at the way he’d asked – but shook his head. Fenton’s pleased reaction sent a shiver down his spine.  
“Good. Lay down.”  
Fenton made his way to his side of the bed, Taylor’s eyes following him incredulously. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to. With the binder still secured to the leather around his chest he knew he couldn’t go down on his back, but with the cage still attached to his front he was hesitant to try his stomach.  
“Taylor?”  
He couldn’t even ask how. So after taking a deep breath he shifted himself back into his usual position, trying to ease himself down onto his side. Once he finally made it there however, Fenton roughly took hold of his shoulder and with another grunt he was forced down onto his stomach. The cage pressed hard in against his groin where he knew it was going to bruise, but even as he tried to relieve the pressure by pushing his knees in Fenton had already leant over him and taken hold of his hips to pull him up himself.   
What followed was a day very similar to the night before. Fenton didn’t go for groceries, instead opting to stay in the basement for the most part of the day. He did disappear at times Taylor could only assume were meal times, but he was too preoccupied by Fenton’s more violent abuse to bother focusing on the time. In the short times he had been left on his own, he tried not to let himself think. He was half expecting Eric to just show up and join in.   
The muzzle didn’t move all day, which meant Taylor still wasn’t fed. He was already into his second day without food and finding it consistently getting harder and harder to breathe. But Eric’s words kept replaying in his head reminding him that _they didn’t care_.   
It was night before Fenton deigned to remove the binder and mitts. Taylor had long since lost feeling in them, but the ache returned to his shoulders the moment they were able to move even just a little. He took a moment to twist his wrists and quickly do one of the stretch exercises while Fenton took the binder to the duffel he’d left by the televisions, before his hands quickly shot to the muzzle. He knew Eric hadn’t locked it and he could easily get it off himself. He’d barely felt for the buckle when he heard Fenton’s footsteps and looked up in time to be hit across the face.  
He let out a muffled yelp and fell onto his side on the bed. Fenton gave him no time to recover before using the muzzle to pull him back up into a sit and taking hold of his left wrist.  
“Not yet,” he said calmly, as if the hit had never happened.  
Taylor tried not to get emotional as Fenton locked the handcuffs in place, but he was downright scared at this point. Had Fenton crossed a line? Was he already willing to let him wither away without food or water as long as he maintained utter control? He tried to steady his breathing and resist the urge to go for the muzzle again when Fenton turned back to the rack. This time he returned with the padlock for the muzzle, and once it was fitted and locked Taylor felt his heart sink further than he thought it could.  
This had to be the beginning of the end.


	79. Chapter 79

Taylor spent an awkward night in Fenton’s arms, still prisoner to the muzzle, corset and cage. For the first in a long time he didn’t dare attempt to wake Fenton even to use the bathroom. He didn’t know what to expect after the weekend they’d had.  
Despite being exhausted from not having any sleep the night before he again found it hard to close his eyes. But eventually his body did win out over his mind and he managed to fall asleep.   
A slight movement from Fenton woke him in the morning and he found himself in the same position with his left arm having lost all feeling from holding his weight. He immediately felt the anxiety return as he wondered if Fenton were ready to get up yet, and what would happen to him once he did. He somehow didn’t even think ahead to what happened next, with Fenton suddenly taking him by the hips and harshly entering him again.  
Taylor’s muffled groans only seemed to spur him on more and he fell silent once he realised. It had long since stopped hurting though Taylor was sure Fenton had done damage the day before. For a doctor not being too worried he wasn’t sure if he was just becoming more sensitive to it or if Fenton had really stopped caring so much about his wellbeing altogether.  
Once Fenton was done Taylor almost cried with relief as the corset came loose. He didn’t want to get his hopes up to getting rid of the muzzle or the cage just yet but he couldn’t help it. Fenton stood from the bed and returned the corset to the duffel before disappearing upstairs to use the bathroom. Taylor sat up on the bed to keep an eye on the door, before deciding to quickly make a break for his own. It was awkward with the cage but he’d quickly learned Fenton didn’t particularly care about the mess it made. Taylor on the other hand did, and managed to use one of the towels to give it a quick once over before hearing Fenton coming back and quickly returning to sit on the bed.  
He awkwardly covered the cage with his hands and kept his eyes down as Fenton came to his side. He expected to be pushed back onto the bed and for the torment to continue, and so flinched when he finally went for the lock on the gag. When his eyes darted to the side he saw that he’d come armed with a bottle of water and some of the usual dry biscuits. The sight made his eyes water again as the muzzle finally came free and he waited for Fenton to remove the tape. He could tell he was trying to be gentle but the glue had well and truly stuck to Taylor’s facial hair and it took a bit of work. Once it was off Fenton handed him the bottle of water just as Taylor felt as if what had been left of his strength finally left his body. He struggled with the cap enough that Fenton had to help, and he even had to steady the bottle as Taylor put it to his lips.  
Once he’d had a drink and managed to get some biscuits into his stomach, without a word Fenton finally removed the cage and took both it and the duffel upstairs. When the door closed behind him Taylor let the tears he’d held go, hoping he wouldn’t see him again for at least a few hours. He needed to get groceries after all and Eric would be expecting his equipment back.  
But he knew Fenton would fit the muzzle again before he left the house at all. He wouldn’t risk Taylor being able to draw attention to himself.  
He took deep breaths as he heard water running upstairs. It sounded like Fenton was going about the usual chores he’d do on a Sunday before he left. If he stuck to the Sunday routine Taylor estimated he’d probably leave the house in an hour or so. He turned his attention to CNN to try and distract himself as he tried to pull himself together. While Fenton was still in the house he didn’t know for sure that he wouldn’t make a sudden appearance and he couldn’t be seen to be upset if he did. He ended up wiping his eyes on the bed sheets before using a small bit of the water to wash them out. Fenton had stayed long enough to make sure he’d downed a couple of the biscuits but now that he was absent Taylor didn’t feel up to eating any more of them.  
As predicted it was just over an hour before Fenton returned. This time he was fully clothed – the most he’d worn in days – and looked ready to go. The muzzle was already sitting to Taylor’s side on the bed where it had been left once Fenton had taken it off, and as Fenton paused to roll his sleeve cuffs at the bottom of the stairs Taylor reached for it.  
He gingerly pulled the strapping apart at the buckle, making sure it was in the usual place before slipping it over his head. When he realised his hands were shaking too much to properly fasten it again, he looked up to see Fenton having paused to watch. Suddenly dreading that he might have made a mistake by doing it himself he nervously waited for his reaction, with Fenton finally coming to his side to buckle the strap himself. He slid the lock into place without a word before giving Taylor’s head a gentle rub.  
“I’ll be back soon,” he assured.  
Taylor ducked his head as Fenton’s hand moved to his cheek as if to quickly inspect the bruise from the day before. He barely seemed to look at it before turning to leave the basement again. Taylor waited until he was sure he heard the car leaving before he even bothered to move.   
The first thing he did was inspect the bruise that had appeared in his crotch from the cage pressing against it. It was barely starting to turn purple but he knew it wouldn’t be long. Over the past few months he’d noticed his bruises showing up both faster and bigger than usual, and lasting for a lot longer. While he was on the thought pattern he carefully touched his face where Fenton had hit him, registering that there was indeed a bruise forming there too. It was very close to his eye and he fleetingly thought to check it over in the mirror.  
Instead, he finally found himself unable to hold onto his emotions any longer. Pulling himself back onto the bed and laying down with his pillow, he managed to let out what had been pent up for days. His entire life had just seemed to become this massive web of anxiety, depression and fear and far from adjusting to it in order to keep a clear head – as he’d hoped he would be strong enough to – his world only seemed to be closing in on him more and more. Figuratively crushing any spirit he had left. At this point, and considering the weekend, he was surprised there was even a miniscule amount of spirit there. He was waiting for the ability to feel nothing as if waiting for a promise to be delivered. He wanted numbness. He didn’t want to feel _this_.  
But at the same time he wondered… if he had the ability to finally feel nothing, would it ever come back? Or would he be left nothing but a shell forever? He didn’t think he could forgive himself if he managed to somehow consciously repress everything only in time to not need to, and then be unable to reverse it.  
He managed to take a few deep breaths as he struggled to change his thought pattern. For now he wasn’t going to do anything. He didn’t know for sure that this wasn’t a one-off for Fenton’s birthday, and he didn’t know how Fenton planned to treat him afterward just yet. He had nothing but time to work on it especially if this were just the beginning as Eric suggested.  
He sighed and rubbed his eyes into the pillow before shifting to the edge of the bed. He had to at least move while he was able. If Fenton wasn’t going to be long he wasn’t sure when he’d get the chance again. He got himself to his feet and began to head for the other side of the staircase. He needed to check on the bruises in the mirror. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d stepped in front of it and hadn’t purposely kept his eyes away. Possibly around the time he’d spent in the trunk.  
He finally made it and leant against the wall beside the mirror with his left hand as he took a moment to prepare himself for what he might see. When he thought he was brave enough, he stepped in front of it. What he saw took his breath away.


	80. Chapter 80

Taylor jumped when he felt Fenton’s hand touch his head. He inexplicably hadn’t even heard Fenton coming into the basement, despite now sitting with his back to the mirror.  
Fenton paused at Taylor’s reaction before continuing to remove the muzzle. Once it was off Taylor watched as Fenton took it to the rack, feeling his heart starting to race with nervous anticipation. Without anything to clean up it wasn’t long before Fenton noticed something was wrong.  
“Come to the bed,” he instructed, as if trying to ignore it.  
Taylor’s heart raced faster. He didn’t want to upset Fenton, but he didn’t think his legs could even hold his weight right now. He began to panic internally not sure how to even voice his concerns. He wasn’t sure that Fenton would even acknowledge them.  
“Taylor?” Fenton stared down at him from where he stood over the rug, waiting.  
“What have you done to me?” his voice broke as he finally looked up.  
Fenton seemed to blanch a little, but otherwise remained expressionless.   
“You need to be more specific,” he said after an awkward moment between them.  
Taylor turned his eyes away as he tried to think of what to say. He was having trouble putting the words together though he knew what he wanted to get across.   
“I don’t even look like me anymore,” his voice broke again and he quickly covered his face with his hands.  
The last thing he wanted to do was cry and face the backlash. He didn’t need any more bruises than he already had. When he realised Fenton was walking toward him he straightened his back against the mirror to prepare for whatever was coming.  
Fenton stopped just in front of him but Taylor wouldn’t look up.  
“What do you mean?” Taylor could hear the frown in his voice.  
He took a deep breath before dropping his hands. Not wanting to turn his back on Fenton he somewhat awkwardly turned his head to the mirror.   
“I look sick,” he amended, “I don’t ever remember a time when I’ve looked this sick.”  
“Do you feel sick?”  
Again Taylor paused to weigh what he wanted to say versus what might cause a reaction in Fenton.  
“I’ve been sick for a long time,” he frowned, purposely keeping his eyes down.  
“Why haven’t you said something before now?”  
“I don’t know,” Taylor shook his head, “maybe I didn’t think it mattered. Maybe I trust Eric’s judgement when he tells me you don’t care.”  
His eyes shot to Fenton as the doctor suddenly knelt in front of him, remaining on one knee. He tried to catch Taylor’s eye but Taylor was avoiding eye contact.  
“No one knows your body like I do,” he said seriously, not helping Taylor’s nerves in the slightest, “and despite what may have happened between us, I am still your doctor. I can still help you.”  
Taylor didn’t dare scoff, though he would have sometime in the past.  
“I need you to tell me what’s changed. If I don’t know what’s wrong, I cannot fix it.”  
Taylor finally gave him a look that he was sure made him look half dead. But his eyes wouldn’t open any further and if he thought about it too much he was going to lose eye contact again.  
“So,” Fenton remained placid, “tell me how you feel.”  
“Tired,” was the first word that came to mind, “I feel tired, all the time. Anxious. Nauseas. My stomach cramps are daily now…”  
“You may be feeling tired from the lack of Vitamin D,” Fenton cut in, “I’ll supplement your diet with it and include more greens.”  
Taylor couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen green on his plate, but he knew Fenton had at least given him some before.  
“Now why are you anxious?”  
Taylor had to pause at that. He stared into Fenton’s genuine curiosity for a moment, trying to calmly remind himself that there was that possibility that Fenton was not entirely sane. If he didn’t think Taylor looked sick when his skin was so pale and he was sure he could see ribs, he sure wasn’t going to be able to correlate what kind of effect the imprisonment was having on Taylor’s psyche.  
“Um…” he had to rush to pull some words together.  
“Anxiety could be the cause of the nausea,” Fenton went on, “you’ll need to alleviate it in order to calm your stomach. It may even be the cause of the cramping.”  
“It’s not the same cause,” Taylor shook his head, “the cramps are hunger pains tenfold.”  
“Hunger,” Fenton’s eyes narrowed slightly.  
“Yes!” Taylor’s voice rose a little with his frustration, “I keep trying to tell you that you don’t give me enough food. Have you even noticed how much weight I’ve lost?”  
“I give you plenty of food,” Fenton easily dismissed, “and you needed to lose weight. You look fine.”  
“I don’t look fine!” Taylor was incredulous now, “what part of this looks ‘fine’?”  
Four eyes shot to the doorway at the sound of a throat being cleared. Taylor’s face paled when he realised Eric was standing in the doorway and he immediately closed his mouth. Fenton seemed to sigh before pulling himself back to his feet.  
“Not interrupting anything am I?” Eric’s brow rose.  
“Can it wait?” Fenton asked.  
“Afraid not. Up here,” Eric indicated before disappearing back into the house.  
Fenton looked back down to Taylor, who was internally praying that Eric would stay upstairs.  
“We’ll continue this,” he assured before following Eric.  
Taylor wasn’t sure whether to believe him or not, but it would give him some time to think of what to say. He needed to somehow convince Fenton to be more generous - and not only with food.  
He remained sitting at the mirror as he heard their voices echo through the doorway. He frowned when he realised they hadn’t closed the door, Fenton probably assuming he wouldn’t be all that long. He couldn’t hear everything, with Eric in particular purposely keeping his voice low, but what he did hear only peaked his curiosity more.  
“I told you I would have some more for you tomorrow. I haven’t been to work.”  
“This isn’t about that, although I appreciate you thinking of me. I was talking to our friend down at the office and he mentioned you were still having trouble with the house…”  
Taylor’s ears perked and his eyes shot to the door.  
“…Look I know you turned me down last time but I really think you should consider-“  
“I will keep turning you down. I have no interest in a share.”  
“Jim you are sitting on a fucking gold mine here, and you’re struggling to pay the bills. You’re being an idiot.”  
Taylor clasped his hands as his breath caught in his throat. Eric had to be talking about him but he wasn’t sure how. Did Eric want Fenton to ransom him?  
At least that way his family would find out he was alive…  
“I don’t care,” Fenton was sticking to his guns, “I have no interest. As I’ve told you many times.”  
“Well when you lose both houses don’t come crying to me,” Eric scorned, “by the way my guy will be in town in two weeks for the brand. Will you have him ready by then?”


	81. Chapter 81

Taylor resisted the urge to bite his nails as Fenton closed the door behind himself and returned down the stairs. He came straight back to him and took up his previous position as if Eric had never interrupted.  
“Where were we?” he sighed as he leant on the knee.  
“What does Eric want?” Taylor’s eyes narrowed.  
Fenton hesitated before casting a glance over his shoulder.  
“I heard you,” Taylor insisted, “he wants you to use me to make money. Am I right?”  
“We were talking about your anxiety,” Fenton corrected patiently.  
“This is _it_ ,” Taylor insisted, “everything the two of you are putting me through is causing this!”  
He flinched back when Fenton moved his arm. He’d just shifted his weight but Taylor had automatically assumed he was going to hit him. Fenton took a moment to watch him as he had to gather himself again.  
“I never know what to expect,” his voice was quieter, “what mood you’re in from one day to the next. If Eric isn’t just going to randomly show up and attack me-“  
“Eric wanted to do something for me. For my birthday,” Fenton explained.  
“I know that,” Taylor insisted, “I’m just saying that… maybe if I had some kind of warning about these things it might not affect me so much the way it does.”  
“A warning,” Fenton repeated, as if not understanding.  
“Like whatever you were talking about up there,” Taylor indicated, “if it involves me, I should know about it. I shouldn’t have to sit here day in and day out just thinking about the many things it _could_ be and how badly Eric still wants to hurt me.”  
“I will not let Eric hurt you,” Fenton insisted.  
“You can’t stop him,” Taylor shook his head, “neither of us can, and you know it.”  
Taylor stopped to catch his breath as Fenton leant forward a little to put a hand on his knee.   
“You fear him,” his eyes narrowed.  
“Of course I fear him,” Taylor hated that his voice was starting to break yet again, “but that’s the point, isn’t it? To keep me in line?”  
Fenton paused just to stare at him again and Taylor felt that he got his answer. But his eyes fell to Fenton’s hand as his thumb began to gently massage his knee.  
“You need to stay calm,” Fenton insisted, “I will adjust your diet but there isn’t much else I can do for you right now.”  
“There is,” Taylor dropped his head, “but you won’t.”  
Fenton waited to make sure he wasn’t going to talk again before struggling a moment to get to his feet. He stooped to put his hand on Taylor’s head for a moment and Taylor closed his eyes.  
“I’ll make dinner,” he said, “I’ll pick up some things for you from the pharmacy tomorrow. Tonight you’ll have to do with pasta.”  
Taylor knew what that meant. It meant literal pasta – about a handful of it with no sauce or sides.   
Fenton left his side to head up the stairs and start work on it. Taylor didn’t bother to move again. He knew Fenton wouldn’t spend the night as he had work the next day, and sure enough after he’d delivered Taylor’s dinner he disappeared upstairs again to have his own.   
When Fenton returned for the last time to collect the empty bowl, Taylor cleared his throat.  
“Will you answer me one thing honestly?” he looked up to where Fenton stood over him.  
“To the best of my ability,” Fenton replied curiously, which Taylor took to mean he’d decide to wait until he’d heard the question.  
He waited until he was sure Fenton was paying attention.  
“Am I going to die down here?”  
He’d managed to send everything blank in order to get the words out. He didn’t even know if he could handle the answer. But if he knew for sure one way or the other it would certainly change his perspective once and for all. He managed to maintain eye contact in the short silence before Fenton answered, though it was hard.  
“I don’t believe so,” was his response before turning again to leave.  
As soon as they broke eye contact Taylor felt his heart starting to race again and he struggled to breathe for a moment. He managed to stay quiet until Fenton closed the door behind him before having to let out a grunt while holding his chest.   
He’d expected him to say yes.  
It wasn’t a ‘no’, but it hadn’t been a ‘yes’. That meant there was hope. Fenton didn’t plan to keep him down here forever after all. Even though Taylor expected to be drugged if they had to move him – for example to the house Fenton had mentioned if they did have to move home – a new setting might produce a new opportunity for escape. Or perhaps at least to be heard.  
When he managed to get his head around that he mentally kicked himself for not pressing on what Eric had been talking about. Maybe he’d even have a chance sooner. But what did he have to be ready for in two weeks? _How many people knew he was there?_ How many people knew, and were doing nothing to help him?  
The thoughts made him wonder how this could even happen in a place like Tulsa. In _his_ neighbourhood, presumably. He wasn’t sure where Fenton lived but it had to be within town. If it took him a half hour to get to and from work when it only took Taylor about ten minutes from home, did Fenton only live twenty minutes from his house? _Was he that close?_ It didn’t make sense to him to be so close and yet so far and he had to force himself to once again change his thought pattern.  
Eric wanted something from him in two weeks’ time. What did he want? Who was he bringing into this? Why was Fenton so calm about it when any other mention of involving people had sent him off the rails?  
He jumped when the light went off, not having realised how long he’d been sitting there. He still couldn’t bring himself to move to the bed. The basement was now warm enough for him to not need any bedcovers so sitting so close to the air conditioner didn’t make so much of a difference.  
He pulled his knees in to his chest and slid his arms over them as he stared across at the stairs. Maybe someone was coming to fix the railing finally. As soon as he’d thought about it he tried to convince himself that it was the truth – it was the only positive idea he could come up with for why a stranger would be allowed down here.  
Maybe, just maybe… he could convince whoever it was to help him. He knew it seemed unlikely with the person coming from Eric to begin with and who knew what else he’d already dealt with, but the thought was there. He had to at least try.  
Now he had to wait until the beginning of June sometime.   
Without even realising it, he managed to fall asleep still sitting against the mirror. Fenton was surprised to find him there in the morning, but once he had to move to use the bathroom he dismally returned to the bed.  
Fenton didn’t say anything about the day before and Taylor already wondered how to bring it up again. He wasn’t sure he could wait two weeks – as he’d said – to find out what Eric was up to.


	82. Chapter 82

True to his word Fenton adjusted Taylor’s diet almost right away and started giving him some vitamins each morning. Taylor wasn’t sure what they were as Fenton never revealed any bottles, but he didn’t question the doctor’s practise despite his current situation. Even if he couldn’t entirely be trusted at the very least he was trying.  
Taylor didn’t really feel any difference for a few days, but in about a week he found himself having less trouble with his gut. In the meantime any attempt to steer conversation toward Eric and the deadline was met with ignorance. It was frustrating but Taylor was very used to the feeling by now. He curbed his irritation by getting back to reading the second encyclopaedia.  
Taylor also spent a lot more time in front of the mirror. Far from actually wanting to see his reflection – and in his view, the effect Fenton had had on him this year – he didn’t want the shock again of seeing himself much worse later on. If he was going to go further downhill he wanted to be able to watch it gradually and to not see the drastic difference in himself. As a result he found a new place to spend his day by sitting back against the stairs in just about the place he’d landed when he’d fallen through.  
Something about the spot made him feel closer to freedom. It was the closest he’d come yet, and if nothing changed it might possibly have been the closest he ever would.  
He’d also been paying attention to the dates thanks to CNN. He was well aware that the weekend Eric was due to return (despite if he also came earlier) was the weekend before the six month anniversary of his time with Fenton. It would be the following Tuesday. Fenton hadn’t said anything about it but Taylor again remained worried that he might have something ‘special’ planned.  
But the weekend came first, and Eric was bright and early on the Sunday morning. Well before Fenton would normally have left for the day.  
“Are you ready?” Taylor could hear his voice at the top of the stairs through the small crack the door was open.  
“Where is he?” Fenton asked.  
“Getting the gear from his car. He won’t be long.”  
Taylor swallowed hard at the word ‘gear’. It wasn’t as if Fenton needed any more of that. Once again he tried to focus on what kind of ‘gear’ someone would need to fix the stairs.  
He soon heard the sound of someone being greeted further into the house. The new voice was definitely male, and younger than Eric or Fenton. He was asking a lot of questions but Taylor couldn’t make anything out. It took between five and ten minutes for them to come to the basement door.  
“Is he restrained?” a Southern accent sounded cautious.  
“Of course,” was Fenton’s reply as the door opened.  
The first person Taylor saw was Eric. He’d opted to stay sitting at the end of the bed, knowing what was coming, but when he saw Eric’s smirk he got to his feet. Fenton was second through the door and he was followed by a lanky man – shorter than all of them – wearing nothing but jeans and a fedora and yet covered from his jawline to his toes in tattoos that had greened with age. He was carrying a case similar in size to the one that held Taylor’s paints.  
“That’s not what I call restrained!” he immediately pointed to him.  
“Relax,” Eric scorned, the first to make it down and heading straight for Taylor, “he won’t cause any trouble.”  
He took hold of Taylor’s shoulder and forced him down again. Taylor kept his eye on the newcomer as Fenton went to the rack.  
“Is he a fighter?”  
“Used to be. Not anymore.”  
Taylor frowned at that as the newcomer stopped at the bottom of the stairs.  
“What would be easier for you?” Eric asked him.  
“Uh… probably kneeling,” he looked around the basement, “can I use that chair?”  
He waited for Fenton’s nod before going to grab it.  
“What’s going on?” Taylor finally found his voice, though sure Eric was the only one to hear it.  
“Stay there and shut up,” Eric stared him down until he knew he wouldn’t talk again.  
The new guy brought the chair over to where they stood, giving Taylor an awkward once over before setting the chair down in front of him.  
“You got something stronger to hold him?” he looked to Eric.  
“Yes. Me,” Eric assured.  
He gave Eric a condescending look before Fenton came back to them with a length of chain and the muzzle. Taylor’s eyes fell to the muzzle as the newcomer set his case on the floor and began to unlock it.  
“I think you may need more than that,” Eric mused at the sight of it, “let me tape him up again. It won’t take long.”  
“That won’t be necessary,” Fenton assured, indicating for Taylor to lean in to him.  
Taylor’s eyes darted between them, not wanting to give up a chance to defend himself so soon, but the look Eric was giving him reminded him of how low the probability was to begin with. With a dejected sigh he let Fenton fit the muzzle before he moved to the other end of the bed.  
He jumped when Eric suddenly took hold of it instead.  
“What about the second one?” Taylor couldn’t see the guy’s face under his hat as he readied the contents of the case.  
“We’ll lay him down for that,” Eric assured.  
“I told you I didn’t want the second one,” Fenton’s voice came from the head of the bed, “it will be distracting.”  
“For who?” Eric frowned, “don’t you want that reminder every time you go there?”  
“Almost ready,” Taylor heard some metallic clinks from both directions.  
“Kneel,” Eric ordered, using his grip on the muzzle to push Taylor from the bed and force him down onto his knees.  
He managed to grab onto the sheets for balance as Eric turned him around to face the bed. As he was turned he caught a glimpse of the large needle the other man was holding, and as a result as soon as he hit the bed he quickly pushed himself up again.  
“Stay down!” Eric scorned, kicking him in the right hip as Taylor struggled to turn to see what was happening behind him.  
While he was distracted Fenton took hold of the cuffs and looped the chain through. With one strong pull Taylor was back on his stomach with his arms stretched out over the bed, the chain anchored to the headboard.   
“Not a fighter, huh?” the man scorned as he took a seat on the chair and pulled it in to Taylor’s back.  
Taylor looked up to see Fenton making his way around to him, but all he did was put a hand on his arm. Taylor’s minor protests continued to go unheard.  
“It will be over soon,” Fenton promised, before he felt Eric take hold of his head and press down.  
A steady hum filled the air, and as Fenton held his hand he felt the man lean forward into him before the needle went into the back of his neck.


	83. Chapter 83

Taylor was trying not to choke even as he struggled to breathe through the bed covers. Eric’s hand firmly held him face down while the man with the tattoos went to work. At first Taylor felt as though Fenton’s holding of his hand was just to keep it in place, but as he ended up pulling against the chains he realised it was merely there to hold for some kind of reassurance.   
He wasn’t sure how long he was there but it felt like an hour. Once he was done the man behind him pushed the chair back, but Eric kept his head down as Fenton moved around to check.  
“Happy with that?”  
“Yes,” Fenton replied, “let me bandage it.”  
“Make up your mind if you want the other one or not, I got shit to do.”  
“I think you should consider it,” Eric insisted as Fenton’s footsteps hit the stairs, “especially considering your financial situation. Jim! Didn’t you say you had a chair some time ago?”  
“I did,” Fenton replied before disappearing into the house.  
Taylor tried to move once he was gone but Eric gave his head a firm shake to remind him he wasn’t going anywhere.  
“The man has a fully equipped chair sitting in the corner,” he said to his friend, “kid’s been here six months and he hasn’t used it yet.”  
“You’re kidding.”  
“I’m not. He hasn’t even used half of this gear yet.”  
“Moron. You know I always had him pegged for a boob guy. Boy was I wrong.”  
Taylor grunted under Eric’s weight, which only made him press harder. Finding it harder to breathe he tried to pull his hands close enough to get some leverage but it didn’t work. Thankfully Fenton reappeared within seconds and Eric finally let up.  
“Are we still on for the 4th of July?”  
Eric hissed in response which made Taylor frown. He hadn’t wanted Fenton to hear that.  
“I won’t be a moment,” Fenton hadn’t seemed to hear as he came to Taylor’s side.  
He knelt to his left and carefully began to clean and bandage the back of his neck.   
“So am I doing it or not?” the Southern accent was getting impatient.  
“I’m buying,” came Eric’s voice, “you might as well get it done now and not have to worry about it later.”  
“Let him up,” Fenton’s voice was low as he finished.  
Eric let go of his head and Taylor looked up to see Fenton obviously trying to decide. Taylor could feel the tears brimming his eyes and as a result quickly turned his head away as he worked to catch his breath.  
“Where’s your chair?” Eric asked, causing Taylor to close his eyes as he realised Fenton had nodded.  
“In the corner,” Fenton replied, “but it isn’t completely set up.”  
“I’m on it,” Eric was back to having that familiar snark in his voice as he headed around the staircase.  
Taylor’s eyes followed Fenton as he moved to release the chain. Noises were heard from the other side of the room which Taylor could tell were the canvas sheets being pulled away and something large and heavy being dragged forward.  
“You’ll need to set up over here,” came Eric’s voice, prompting the younger man to start collecting his case just as Taylor was able to sit up again.  
He watched him go before giving Fenton what he hoped was a look of betrayal. Fenton was back to staring at him as he looped the chain over his arm, and as he walked past to return it to the rack he gave Taylor a quick pat on the head.  
While all three were distracted Taylor tried to feel for the back of his neck. Fenton had cleaned it up well and all he could feel was the dressing but it was definitely tender to the touch. He had trouble steadying his breathing as he thought about what it might be but he had a feeling he was soon going to find out.  
“Do you need a hammer or something?” the newcomer asked, sounding like he was helping.  
“Not for now,” Eric assured, “this will hold just fine until Jim decides he wants to use it properly.”  
Fenton was watching them from the rack as they set it up, his face placid as usual and not giving away what he thought of being pressured into this. Taylor was mentally begging him to put up more of a fight but he knew that he wouldn’t. Not against Eric.  
“Is that it?” it took around another fifteen minutes for the stranger to ask.  
“That should do it. Bring him here,” Eric conceded.  
Fenton gave a nod and came to Taylor’s side. Taylor could already feel himself going weak at the knees but knew he couldn’t even begin to put up a fight. Once on his feet Fenton led him by the arm around to where Eric had set up ‘the chair’ in about the same place the trunk had been kept. Taylor saw a gaping hole in the collection of storage in the back corner where it must have come from, but the chair itself caused him to halt in his tracks and almost trip Fenton over.   
It was made of metal and had a cushioned seat with a wooden backrest, but it was thin. Thin enough to match where the seat parted at a 45 degree angle to form a sort of triangle where he could tell his legs would be strapped in. In the centre of the small seat was a large hole and it didn’t look at all comfortable. The sides looked as though they were missing something – perhaps the rods sitting to the side of the staircase – but there were no armrests so it might have been those.   
Once Fenton recovered he gave Taylor another gentle push toward it as the third man began to ready the needle again. Taylor once more began to protest through the muzzle which only prompted Eric to take a few steps forward and roughly grab his other arm. Once Eric had hold of him Taylor fell silent and let them pull him toward the chair. As soon as he was seated Eric began to tightly secure the straps around his right thigh, Fenton securing the left but much more gentle.  
Taylor looked to his right at his reflection in the mirror, purely not wanting the needle in his field of vision.  
“What about his hands?” Fenton asked once he was done down to the ankle.  
“Not to worry,” Eric assured.  
Taylor jumped as he bent to grab the handcuffs, pulling his arms up and over his head. Taylor grunted as the movement pulled against his shoulders and Eric managed to hook the short chain to something at the back of the chair. Once he let go Taylor could feel the hook with his hands but he couldn’t seem to reach far enough to unhook it by himself.  
“Round two,” the buzzing started again.  
Taylor’s eyes shot to the man as he readied a place on Taylor’s inner left thigh. Eric simply stood to the side with his arms folded to watch, while Fenton took hold of Taylor’s head again and gently tried to massage his forehead.  
When the needle went in he couldn’t help but pull against the restraints, but despite them not being tight they were still firm. The man went calmly about his work and almost looked bored while doing it. This certainly wasn’t his first time. It again made Taylor wonder just how many people were in on this. How many people Eric had in his circle.  
“I’ll come back in a few days and take photos for the archive,” Eric assured Fenton once it was almost done, “don’t worry. No one will see his face.”


	84. Chapter 84

Taylor was still in his spot under the stairs when Fenton returned from his Sunday outings a little later than usual. Taylor didn’t register that he was in the house until his footsteps were overhead.   
He’d been looking over the chair and thinking of the many things Fenton could do with it. _Would_ do with it, now that it was out in the open. He desperately wished he had a way to get hold of the key across the room so that he could simply knock Fenton out with one of the extra pieces – presuming he had enough strength to do so – and finally free himself. But it was one of many daydreams he’d had since the day he’d gotten here that he knew wouldn’t come to fruition. Just one of many dreams that ended in him finally walking through that door.  
The door opened not too long later and Taylor heard him on the stairs. He didn’t bother moving as Fenton came to his side and gently removed the muzzle for the first time since that morning.  
Eric had left at the same time as the Southerner, after handing over a small wad of cash which Taylor estimated at a couple of hundred. The guy barely looked at Taylor again before leaving. Eric had told Fenton he would be in touch in a few days. Fenton had bandaged Taylor’s leg before letting him free from the chair, where he’d fallen to the floor and moved back to where he sat now. Fenton hadn’t said another word before leaving for the day.  
Now he handed Taylor a fresh bottle of water and some vitamins.  
“Take these,” he instructed.  
Taylor just stared for a moment as he wondered what they were, before gingerly taking them from his hand and downing them with the water. Once done he set the bottle aside and rested his arms on his legs again silently.  
“Are you alright?” Fenton seemed momentarily worried.  
Taylor just nodded and twiddled his thumbs, unable to find his voice. Fenton waited a few seconds before kneeling beside him again. Taylor went to shift but decided it wasn’t worth it.  
“I don’t want you to look at this as a claim of ownership, as Eric does,” he seemed the need to defend, “I want you to see it merely as a celebration of our unity. Once and for all.”  
Taylor frowned at that but kept his eyes down. He couldn’t be serious.   
Fenton waited another moment to see if he’d say anything, but he didn’t.   
“I’ll take the bandages off tomorrow. We’ll have a quiet night so that you can heal,” he assured, “please refrain from playing with them in the meantime.”  
Taylor didn’t even react to that. He was getting used to Fenton’s penchant to sometimes treat him like a child. He wasn’t sure if it was because he had to ‘look after’ him, or just because he was a doctor used to dealing with children on a regular basis. Either way it continued to remind him of Willa’s time in the basement and whenever he thought about it his skin crawled.  
“Are you hungry?”  
Taylor knew it was a trick question to try and get him to talk. He always complained of being hungry, so Fenton had to know that he would be. He nodded but continued to keep his eyes down.  
“I’ll get you something to eat,” Fenton promised, pulling himself to his feet again.  
He headed for the stairs, but before he made it there Taylor finally looked up.  
“What’s the ‘archive’?” he asked, his voice quieter than he’d expected it to come out.  
Fenton paused with his hand on the rail, looking as if it were the last thing he’d expected Taylor to ask. Yet he looked somehow still pleased that Taylor had said anything at all.  
“It’s a collection that Eric keeps,” he revealed, “of all the markings bestowed on those both in and out of our little group. It’s an insurance policy in case-“  
“In case we escape,” Taylor finished for him.  
Fenton paused, not expecting to be interrupted.   
“In case they become lost, yes,” he somewhat corrected, causing Taylor to drop his eyes again, “as small as the chance may be. It’s a matter of identification in case anyone were to find them. Usually they are placed inside the lower lip but I wouldn’t allow it there.”  
Taylor automatically ran his tongue along his lower lip, trying to imagine the pain still in his thigh if it were there instead. Or what it might have tasted like.  
Fenton again waited a moment to make sure the conversation wouldn’t continue before heading up the stairs. Taylor soon heard him bustling in the kitchen, both putting away the groceries and preparing something quick. He came back with a sandwich that was mostly lettuce with a single slice of some kind of pressed meat. Compared to his usual meal sizes an entire sandwich was becoming a challenge so he had to eat it slowly.  
Fenton spent the rest of the afternoon and evening upstairs with the door slightly ajar. Taylor wasn’t sure if it was purely because he was more confident now that Taylor wouldn’t try anything, or simply to keep an ear out in case Taylor called for him or made any other noise. Through the open door Taylor could hear things he wouldn’t usually – in this case Fenton making phone calls and bill payments. He also heard a lot of tapping which he took to be Fenton using a computer. He hadn’t seen either or a phone or a computer since waking up down here and had presumed they were on the list of things Eric had convinced him not to allow in the basement… along with pens and pencils or anything sharp. Eric was nothing if not organised and Taylor was constantly intimidated by just how much.   
Along with wondering how many people were involved in this underground world, came the worry of what might happen if he _did_ eventually manage to escape. What if he couldn’t get to the authorities fast enough? What if one of Eric’s people found him instead? Were they constantly on the lookout for people who’d escaped? _How many captives were there?_  
He grunted and covered his eyes as he tried to think of something else. The despair was beginning to constantly overwhelm him and as usual he didn’t want Fenton to see him upset. The next time he looked up he could see in the mirror that his eyes had gone red anyway.  
Fenton spent the night in bed with him, but barely said a word. The following morning Taylor woke to another rape and knew that things would get back to normal pretty quick. Fenton hadn’t pulled anything extra out since what happened on his birthday but Taylor knew the threat was constantly there. He just somehow had to keep Fenton from thinking that he needed it.  
It was Tuesday, the six month mark, when Eric returned with a small digital camera. Fenton watched him meticulously from the moment he stepped into the basement to make sure he didn’t take any unnecessary photos, and the two Eric did take of Taylor’s thigh and neck were studied closely to make sure there were no reflections and nothing in the background.   
“Why is he still wearing those?” was the only comment Eric made, indicating Taylor’s necklaces.  
“Because I like them,” Fenton replied simply as he was looking over the second photo.  
“It’s not advised,” Eric had his arms folded as he looked down on him, back in the spot under the stairs, “letting them keep trinkets from home.”  
“They are more than that,” Fenton said in a tone implying the end of the discussion.  
He was right, and as soon as the two of them left Taylor slid his fingers through the cords. They were much more than just necklaces to him. To him, they were becoming the last proof that the outside world even existed beyond his mind. As he looked down again he let his left hand fall to his inner thigh and carefully trace the slightly bruised but very visible black markings newly placed there.   
_JRF._


	85. Chapter 85

Taylor was careful as he touched the edges of the bruise in the mirror. It was bigger than most of his recent ones and had given him a black eye as well.   
The amount of colours in it had impressed him. He was already wondering if he could paint a similar splatter without it all converging into one giant brown blob. He knew once Fenton came downstairs and saw it properly in the light for the first time he’d want to inspect it himself, but there was nothing he could do. The damage had been done.  
It was now mid-June. The night before Taylor had started awake suddenly with one of his night terrors, and Fenton’s reaction had been to grab him by the hair and pound his head into the headboard. Fenton had managed to get back to sleep after Taylor had quietened down, but Taylor had been in so much pain he’d worried he might have had a concussion and so opted to stay awake.  
It didn’t take Fenton too long to return with breakfast, but seeing Taylor by the mirror he set it down on the bed and came to his side.  
“Let me see,” he insisted, taking Taylor’s shoulder to turn him.  
Taylor put his head down so Fenton could inspect his forehead and prepared himself for the pain he knew was coming. He managed to only flinch twice as Fenton tested the skin.  
“Will you be speaking to me today?” Fenton asked seemingly absently as he worked.  
Taylor grimaced a little, knowing it was starting to upset Fenton that he’d been so quiet lately. Since getting the tattoos he hadn’t said anything to Fenton that he didn’t need to, and Fenton had noticed.  
“Sure,” he managed to say, keeping his eyes down.  
Fenton took hold of his chin and lifted it none too gently. At first he was just moving his head to look at the bruise easier but he soon settled on Taylor’s eyes.  
“I don’t like this,” he insisted, “you’re too quiet.”  
Taylor just stared back at him. He didn’t know what to say to that. He just didn’t have anything to say, period. He was at the point where he felt as though he’d already said his piece a million times over and it had been just as worthless the last time as it had the first. There was no point in asking questions when he knew he’d never get the answers.   
But Fenton wasn’t moving, and he wasn’t letting him go.  
“I’m sorry,” he gulped slightly, not sure what else he could say.  
He tried to keep himself calm until Fenton finally let him go and he was able to take a step back. He awkwardly leant against the mirror when he realised Fenton wasn’t going anywhere.   
“There’s something wrong with you,” Fenton seemed scornful, which was unusual for him, “what?”  
“I don’t know,” Taylor replied sullenly, his throat already scratchy again.  
“I don’t believe you.”  
Taylor looked up at that, instantly worried about Fenton’s mood. Fenton was staring him down as if waiting for an explanation. Taylor awkwardly crossed his hands and diverted his eyes to the mirror while trying to keep Fenton in his peripheral. He didn’t trust him not to lash out if he didn’t like the answer.  
“I really don’t know,” he said softly, “maybe I’m just depressed?”  
“Depressed,” Fenton’s tone didn’t change, “depression.”  
“Yeah,” Taylor was once again very conscious of the chains weighing him down.  
“Brought on by the markings?”  
Taylor hadn’t really considered them being the final straw, but it made sense to him now. It wasn’t just the tattoos themselves, it was the promise that came with them that even if he found a way out of here… it still wouldn’t be over. Even if Fenton didn’t get his ‘forever’ Taylor would still forever be haunted. Maybe even _hunted_.  
“Taylor?”  
“Maybe,” he relented.  
“Maybe?”  
“What do you want me to say?” Taylor looked up again, almost on the verge of tears, “I don’t know what else to tell you.”  
“You need to tell me what’s wrong,” Fenton was getting impatient.  
“I already have,” Taylor was trying not to raise his voice, “I’ve already told you what’s wrong and how to fix it, but you won’t. I can’t play the game anymore.”  
“Calm down,” Fenton insisted.  
“I get that I’m just supposed to accept this, and I am trying I swear,” Taylor assured, “but I’ve spent a very long time trying to make peace with the fact that these may be the last four walls I ever see, and I can’t do it. I just can’t. It doesn’t make sense to me.”  
He flinched backward as Fenton suddenly reached for his face. When he looked up again he realised the man’s expression had again changed. He let him hold his jaw, though he prepared himself in case it was just a grip to throw him into the mirror.  
Fenton took the moment to stare into his eyes as if working out exactly how to say what he wanted.  
“I truly believe that you will not only come to accept being here,” he began carefully, “but that you will eventually begin to enjoy it.”  
Taylor cringed at that, making Fenton squeeze his jaw to regain his attention.  
“I will try my best to see that you feel as much a part of this relationship as you truly are,” he went on, “within our limitations of course. But I need you to know that you are important, and that I have never cared about anyone in my entire life as much as I’ve cared for you.”  
“Why?” Taylor’s voice shook as he tried to understand, “everything about me that you could have loved, you’ve taken from me. There’s nothing left. I’m just a shell.”  
He could feel the tears in his eyes, but for some reason it wasn’t bothering Fenton this time.  
“There’s everything left,” Fenton was dead serious.  
Taylor took in a shaky breath as he finally let him go.  
“And I don’t want you thinking otherwise,” he added, “I want you to stop this self-deprecating nonsense immediately. You have no need to question your worth.”  
“It’s not my worth I’m questioning,” Taylor amended, “it’s the meaning of life when life becomes a statistic.”  
“You need to eat your breakfast,” Fenton insisted as he went back to the bed to fetch it, “we have a long day ahead.”  
“Why?” Taylor asked, worried that Mondays were usually reserved for Fenton’s ‘play time’.  
“Eric will be here shortly,” didn’t help Taylor’s nerves as Fenton brought the plate back, “we have much to discuss.”  
He held the plate of toast out for Taylor to take. He hesitated, but did so. Unable to both hold the plate and eat at the same time while wearing the cuffs he turned his back to the mirror and slid to the floor so he could lean the plate on his knees.  
“I trust that if Eric decides he needs your help with something, you will accommodate him?”  
Taylor paused, knowing Fenton’s use of the word ‘help’ was as far from truth as could be.  
“I’ll do whatever you want, you know that,” he admitted before finally biting into the toast.


	86. Chapter 86

When Eric did arrive not too long later Taylor was glad that he stayed upstairs. Fenton closed the door this time though so he couldn’t hear what they were saying. They spent most of their time in the kitchen, and Taylor did hear the kettle boil at least twice.  
He wondered if they were having coffee. He’d never gotten the coffee he’d first asked for. He wasn’t even sure he could remember the smell right anymore.  
Their voices never rose which also made him wonder what they could possibly be talking about for so long. In his experience if Fenton and Eric spent too long in the same room together they would surely come to blows over something – usually him. But they’d must have been friends long before Taylor had come into Fenton’s life… though Taylor wasn’t really sure if Fenton had any real ‘friends’. The way these two treated each other wasn’t at all friendly, and Fenton never spoke of anyone else. He certainly hadn’t spent the time to go and _see_ anyone else as far as Taylor was aware. All his spare time was spent either in the basement or upstairs presumably doing household chores.  
The entire time they were having their meeting, Taylor spent in his spot under the stairs. He listened for every small movement he could make out and every time he heard a footstep hoped it wasn’t coming to the basement door.  
But as usual it was inevitable, though it took well over three hours. Taylor didn’t move when he heard them coming and only looked up once Eric had paused beside the bottom of the stairs.  
“Hello Taylor,” he greeted casually, “we’d like to have a word.”  
Taylor only pulled his knees in closer as both of them came into his line of sight. Eric came to stand in front of him as Fenton stayed back a little.  
“Jim and I have managed to come to an agreement. He’s just not entirely trusting of you living up to your end,” Eric’s eyes were roaming Taylor’s body, “I’m here to make sure that you do.”  
Taylor shot Fenton a glance, instantly wondering what he’d signed him up for.  
“What do you want?” he kept his eyes down after that.  
“That’s a good start,” Eric assured, “I want to test you. I want to make sure you’re not going to faint at the first signs of domination.”  
It took a moment for Taylor to comprehend, but once he did he could feel a lump forming in his throat. Whatever it was he knew things were about to get a lot harder.  
“Domination from who?” he squeezed his eyes shut, already regretting asking.  
“From anyone.”  
Fenton was selling him. That was all Taylor could think.  
“On your feet,” he jumped when he felt Eric take hold of his arm to pull him up.  
He leant against the staircase to help, but once he’d stood up Eric knelt down in front of him. Taylor gave Fenton a worried glance as he wasn’t sure what he was doing, before Eric pulled a tape measure from his pocket and measured the length of Taylor’s leg from the knee down.  
“Perfect,” he said to himself, standing again once he was done, “I have one that will do just fine.”  
“One what?” Taylor could feel himself starting to shake again.  
He yelped when Eric suddenly slapped him across the face – luckily the opposite side to the bruise. He held his face with his hands as he recovered from the shock.  
“I wasn’t talking to you,” Eric said calmly, “sit down.”  
Taylor leant against the stairs and slid to the ground again, almost holding his breath as he waited.  
“Go fetch my tape from upstairs,” Eric turned to Fenton, who immediately left.  
Once again he was leaving him alone with Eric. But he hadn’t said anything when Eric had hit him this time. _What was going on?_  
When he looked up again Eric was tucking the tape measure away and casually strolling toward the rack. He wanted to ask what they were doing but he didn’t think he’d get an answer. In no time Fenton had returned and he simply handed Eric a familiar roll of duct tape.  
“Thank you,” Eric nodded, bringing it straight back to Taylor.  
Taylor sat up straight as Eric knelt in front of him again, getting a lot closer than he had last time.  
“You and I have a lot to cover over the next couple of weeks,” he began as he shifted close enough that he was touching Taylor’s legs.  
Taylor didn’t dare move as his right leg squashed against him and Eric unrolled some of the tape.  
“But as they say, there’s no time like the present. Now is as good a time to start as any.”  
Taylor looked back to where Fenton stood at the end of the stairs to watch, not moving otherwise as Eric began looping the tape around his knee. He hoped the look in his eyes begged for answers but Fenton was offering nothing.  
“I will need you to do exactly as I say, which shouldn’t be too much of a stretch for you,” Eric went on as he pulled Taylor’s taped knee forward, and as a result his hip, “and the sooner you prove to me that you can do everything you’re told, the sooner you and Jim can get back to your… well…”  
He smirked as he began looping the tape around Taylor’s thigh, holding his ankle tightly against it.  
“…Jim’s favourite night time activities I’m sure. Give me your other leg.”  
Taylor wasn’t sure if any of this was an invitation to speak and so remained silent. He hadn’t worked out what Eric was doing yet but he obviously didn’t want him able to walk. Once Eric was done with his legs he took hold of Taylor’s right hand and started to tape up his fingers.  
“Keys,” he said aloud before moving onto the left.  
Taylor’s eyes shot to Fenton as he made his way over, holding the handcuff and shackle keys out for Eric to take. Once he was satisfied with his work on Taylor’s fingers he unlocked the cuffs himself before absently handing them back to Fenton.  
“Now I want you… to hold your arms like this,” Eric demonstrated by putting his left hand on his left shoulder.  
Taylor awkwardly did as he was told, not entirely sure he was doing it right before Eric moved to his side. More tape went around his wrist and under his armpit to hold the arm in place and the same was soon done to the other side. As Taylor tested the pull of the tape on his arms he wasn’t expecting the move when Eric suddenly covered his mouth. He grunted at the unexpected gag as Eric added two more layers to make it more secure, before struggling a moment to get to his feet.  
He sighed as he made his way back toward the end of the staircase, taking hold of the chair that sat nearby and bringing it back to the small open space. Taylor watched every move as he then went to the rack and found a ball gag he could remove the ball from before he finally took a seat.  
“Do I need to be here for this?” Fenton was uncomfortable, which made Taylor even more worried.  
“No,” Eric wasn’t at all phased, “in fact, take your time. Just bring me back the medium.”  
“Medium?” Fenton had been about to take the stairs but paused, “I thought…”  
“He’ll be fine,” Eric was smiling at Taylor as he massaged the ball between his fingers, “go ahead.”  
Fenton paused again, but continued on his way. Taylor could feel the dread wash over him as Fenton closed the door behind him.  
“You know,” Eric began, “training a person is much like training a dog, once you make sure they can’t answer back. A little negative reinforcement here and there and they start to do anything you want.”  
He smiled, and leant forward to gently roll the ball. It came to rest a few feet in front of Taylor.  
“So fetch.”


	87. Chapter 87

It took a while for Taylor to figure out exactly what to do, but there was no way he was going to disobey. Especially when it could have been the first of many requests while Fenton was out of the room. Eric was surprisingly patient as he first worked out how to move.  
Running with the analogy of dog training, he’d tried getting up onto his elbows and knees to ‘walk’ toward the ball, but quickly ended up losing his balance and falling back onto his legs. If he leant forward onto his elbows he soon found he was able to shuffle forward a little, and this was eventually what got him to the ball. The next problem was that he couldn’t pick it up.  
Any glance toward Eric just showed him patiently staring. No reaction of any kind whatsoever on his face. He was waiting for Taylor to figure this out on his own.  
He tried hitting it with his elbow at first but when it started rolling in the wrong direction he knew it wasn’t going to work. He just couldn’t get the angle right. In the end he used his head. Unable to hit it very far in case it rolled off course, he was cautious as he got closer and closer to Eric. The ball eventually landed between the man’s feet and Taylor sat back on his legs hoping it was enough.  
“Hmm,” Eric mused, “not too bad for your first try.”  
Taylor was glad to hear that. It had taken a lot of work.  
Eric leant forward to retrieve the ball, squeezing it between his fingers before locking eyes with Taylor again. Taylor flinched as he suddenly leant closer but it was only to roll the ball in the opposite direction.  
“Do it again,” Eric ordered.  
Taylor’s brow furrowed but again he didn’t dare refuse. He could already feel welts appearing on his elbows and knees but as far as injuries went they were nothing in comparison to what else he’d dealt with down here. His second ‘fetch’ was faster but not any easier, and when he made it back to Eric’s chair Eric suddenly stood up.  
Taylor flinched back again but not in time to duck Eric’s advance. Eric’s hand went straight to Taylor’s necklaces and whipped them over his head before he could even try to deflect it.  
“Settle down,” Eric was passive as he stepped past, otherwise ignoring Taylor’s muffled protests, “I know these mean something to Jim. They’re not going anywhere.”  
Taylor watched as he hung them from the end of the stair rail. Once he’d paused to look them over properly for the first time he made his way back to the rack.  
“You know what else every good dog has, besides training?” he mused as he selected a wide strap of leather.  
Taylor knew where he was going with it. He’d often wondered why Fenton hadn’t, but had been glad for his hesitation. However now that his necklaces were – at least temporarily – gone…  
“A collar,” Eric finished with a smile as he came back to where Taylor knelt.  
Taylor’s heart was already racing again and he just wished Eric would get it over with.  
“You want to be a good dog, don’t you?” he teased.  
Taylor squeezed his eyes shut again but nodded his head in defeat. He knew he had no choice but to play the game. Eric fitted the collar loose enough that he wouldn’t choke, but just knowing it was there was already making it harder to breathe. Eric left him to return to the rack and when he came back he affixed a leash.  
“Walk with me,” he said before taking a few steps toward the bed.  
Taylor momentarily panicked again as he knew he couldn’t move as fast as Eric would want, but he had to try. The collar clinched against his throat as Eric pulled.  
He fell over at least three times as he tried to keep up, and all Eric did was lead him around to the left side of the headboard. There he slipped the handle of the leash over the top of the post where it was well out of Taylor’s reach.  
“Stay,” Eric looked him in the eye.  
Taylor couldn’t hold eye contact anymore. He wasn’t entirely sure he wasn’t just having a nightmare, maybe from inside the closet. At the sound of the front door opening again Eric turned to leave.  
He awkwardly shifted himself to he could lean back against the wall and take some of the strain off his back as he listened for what was going on upstairs. Fenton was back, though he hadn’t been gone for very long. He could hear something metallic hitting the floor every few steps as they made their way back to the basement. Neither of them were saying a word.  
Taylor couldn’t see what they were bringing in from where he was, but they were having trouble with it on the stairs. By the time they reached the floor and had taken it to the other side of the room Fenton had worriedly asked where he was at least twice. Once Taylor heard the metal hit the ground Fenton had appeared and instantly looked relieved. A moment before he frowned.  
“Where are his necklaces?”  
“Relax,” came Eric’s voice from the other side of the room, “there.”  
Taylor saw Fenton look to the stair rail before looking back at him and nodding. That sorted, he went to help Eric with whatever he was doing.  
Taylor’s legs were aching from his weight and his right foot already had pins and needles. His arms didn’t hurt any more than normal at least but he just couldn’t shift enough to get his legs comfortable. Whatever Eric and Fenton were doing they were taking a long time.  
His left foot was just starting to succumb when he heard Eric suggest for Fenton to try ‘leading him over’. Taylor had been hoping Fenton might want to try something different by the time he came back, but then… this was different for him too. When he came back into Taylor’s line of sight he seemed very hesitant.  
“What are you waiting for?” Eric had stopped what he’d been doing.  
Fenton gave him a glance as he wrung his hands somewhat nervously, but he made his way to Taylor’s side. Taylor kept his head down as Fenton retrieved the leash, mostly trying not to provoke him.  
When Fenton pulled forward on the leash he fell forward onto his elbows again and tried his best to keep up as Fenton walked. It wasn’t as fast as Eric had pulled him and Fenton only seemed to use the leash for direction rather than forcing him. He already knew Taylor would do what he wanted. For all purposes it was going well until they rounded the staircase and Taylor laid eyes on what the two had been building.  
It was a thin-wired dog cage. Half the length of the trunk but standing a little taller. Eric knelt at the side connecting the last piece of the side grate to the top, a pair of pliers between his teeth.  
Taylor tried to pull back against the leash, but when Fenton’s reaction was to give him slack he lost his balance and fell over onto his side. The movement caught Eric’s attention and he set the pliers down before getting to his feet and storming over.  
“Hey!” he took the leash and pushed Fenton aside.  
The pull brought Taylor back to his knees, choking as he desperately tried to balance. Once Eric knew he had it he again slapped him across the face.  
“Calm down,” he scorned, holding the leash taut and forcing Taylor’s view upward.  
Taylor found it hard to focus at all. His bruise had hit the floor on the way down.  
“We still have so much to do today,” Eric insisted.


	88. Chapter 88

CNN was well into the evening broadcast by the time Taylor found himself squashed into the cage. When Eric had initially ignored it he’d tried to convince himself it was only there to scare him, but it turned out Eric had planned all along to keep him there overnight. A large padlock held the cage door shut, and the key had gone home with him.  
At first Taylor had just tried to find a position that didn’t hurt. The wire felt like it was cutting into his skin no matter where it hit and he knew he was going to get bruises from wherever he leant. But shifting inside was hard and he could neither completely turn around nor straighten out his back. In his efforts it took him some time to realise that Fenton was watching him from where he sat at the bottom of the staircase.  
Fenton had been unusually quiet throughout the entire afternoon. He’d often watched from a distance and sometimes left the room altogether. For some reason whatever deal he’d struck with Eric meant that while Taylor hadn’t left the basement he was definitely under Eric’s rule. Fenton hadn’t made any attempt to interfere in Eric’s ‘training session’.  
Without a break Taylor had been locked down as soon as Eric was done. He hadn’t had food or water since the morning, and now he had no idea how he was supposed to get any through the wire. It was hard enough trying to catch his breath in the cramped space but his throat already felt like it was caked with dust.  
He returned Fenton’s stare. He wasn’t sure what the man was thinking. Was he upset about what Eric had done? Was he just annoyed that he couldn’t attack Taylor tonight? Was Fenton sitting there jacking off because he was locked in a cage?  
He soon noticed his necklaces were missing from the stair rail, and that Fenton was massaging his fingers with them.  
“Please don’t take those,” Taylor’s voice broke.  
It was the first thing he’d said all day. Even when Eric had finally taken the tape off he’d stayed silent.  
“Now you want to talk?” Fenton feigned surprise.  
“Please,” Taylor was begging, “they’re all I have left. They’re all that’s left of me.”  
He could hear Fenton’s breathing heavy, as if he couldn’t be bothered dealing with this right now. But he wasn’t saying anything.  
“Fenton…” he tried to shift, his fingers slipping through the wire, “I know that for whatever reason they mean something to you too. But they’re the only thing I have left to remind me that the outside world is _real_ , and that I was once a part of it.”  
“I was going to collar you myself, eventually.”  
Taylor grunted and let his head fall to the side of the cage. Fenton wanted him to talk, but he never bothered to listen.  
“But I wanted to wait for a significant time. Perhaps after our first year together.”  
“Why are you doing this?” Taylor’s voice gave away how tired he was, in all aspects, “why are you letting him take over?”  
“He isn’t taking over,” Fenton assured, “he merely needs to get you ready.”  
“For what? Since when do you let him do whatever he wants with me?”  
Fenton paused at the accusation before standing from the stairs. Taylor watched carefully as he slipped the necklaces back over the stair rail.  
“He isn’t doing ‘whatever he wants’,” he relented, keeping one eye on Taylor but looking somewhat uncomfortable, “I asked him to help you.”  
“Help me?” Taylor couldn’t sound more surprised, “how does this help me?”  
“It’s preparing you.”  
“For what?! Fenton please! I can’t take these mind games!”  
Fenton took a step forward and if Taylor had anywhere to shrink back to he would have. Surprisingly he felt somewhat safer in there, knowing Fenton couldn’t hit him. But he was sure the wire wouldn’t stop everything.  
“My financial situation has become more dire than I had originally feared,” Fenton offered.  
“Are you selling me?” Taylor figured he might as well get it out, “are you giving up on me?”  
“Of course not,” Fenton was scornful, “this… this will be a one-time thing.”  
Taylor felt a shiver run down his spine, despite the basement being very warm that night.  
“What do you mean?” he didn’t want to ask, “what have you done?”  
Fenton sighed, pausing to gather his words.  
“Eric knows people who are willing to pay a lot of money for certain things,” he tried to explain.  
“Things,” Taylor’s eyes darted, “you mean me.”  
Fenton looked to consider it before nodding.  
“Not just you,” he amended, “sometimes just for something a little different. Everyone has different tastes after all.”  
“How many people are we talking?” Taylor wasn’t sure how to react to this at all.  
“I’m not sure.”  
Taylor nodded and his eyes lowered. He already knew that arguing wouldn’t get him anywhere. Whatever these two had planned, it would be going ahead one way or another. Especially if money was involved, and especially if Eric had made his mind up already.  
“But enough, Eric assures, to clear my current debts and to secure the new house,” Fenton added.  
“New house?” Taylor caught on right away, “we’re still moving?”  
“Eric also believes that… given time with others, you may come to appreciate me a little more,” Fenton ignored the question.  
“Appreciate you?” Taylor’s brow furrowed, confused, “I do appreciate you. I know you’re the only reason I’m still alive. You know what will happen to me if something happens to you, right?”  
Fenton didn’t respond, only remained staring down at him.  
“Eric will take me,” he insisted, “and he will sell me to the highest bidder. But I don’t think you want that, do you?”  
“Of course I don’t,” Fenton almost scoffed.  
“Is this because I haven’t been talking?” he frowned, “it’s only because I have nothing left to say. What am I supposed to talk to you about? My day? Your day? The weather I never see?”  
“This is purely for monetary reasons and you need to disregard everything else,” Fenton insisted.  
“I can’t,” Taylor tried to move his arm down a little, “I can’t just turn my mind off because you want me to. It doesn’t work that way.”  
The two stared at each other a moment longer before Fenton just turned to leave.  
“Wait!” Taylor jumped a little, “are you really not going to give me anything? Food? Water?”  
“Eric has forbidden it,” Fenton replied without stopping, making his way up the stairs.  
“Could you at least leave the light on tonight? Please?” Taylor felt childish for asking, but he had good reason.  
Fenton ignored him and the light went out on schedule. Taylor was left to deal with the dark confines of the cage on his own, and it wasn’t long before his claustrophobia began to seep in…


	89. Chapter 89

Taylor stared.  
Despite the dark, he could see the figure clearly as it stood in the doorway at the top of the stairs. It was backlit with light presumably from the kitchen but he somehow knew that Fenton wasn’t there. The black figure just stared back, unmoving, and Taylor was sure more now than ever that it was female.  
But he still couldn’t see her face.  
“Who are you?” he managed to call out again, despite his voice sounding like a tiny echo, “why are you here?!”  
For the first time, the figure moved. She turned her face toward the light…  
Then Taylor woke up.  
His wake up call was the piercing sound of a whip hitting the side of the cage. As he was startled the first thing he could comprehend was that Eric was standing over him, and that the light had already been on. Had the figure been a dream? Had it always been a dream?  
Before either of them could say a word Taylor realised the cage wasn’t the only thing the whip had hit. With a surprised yelp and gritting his teeth he carefully pushed himself up in the cage so he could see the damage to his left arm. A skin toned ladder ran the length of it from his wrist almost to his elbow, the rungs where the wire had saved his flesh.  
“Good morning,” Eric said flatly, catching his attention again, “sleeping in I see.”  
Taylor watched as he smirked and went to return the whip to the rack. Only then did his body give in to the cramping it had been working up to all night. Taylor did his best to hold in any noise but he had to start panting.  
“Nothing to say to me?”  
At that, Taylor craned his neck to try and see behind him to the rack. Eric had his back to him as he looked over everything. Taylor didn’t know what he wanted him to say. Should he have apologised for being asleep? Did he want a ‘good morning’ in return?  
He flinched when Eric finally turned to look at him, not realising he hadn’t said anything yet.  
“Sorry,” he choked a little, barely getting the word out.  
“Better,” Eric considered, “but not perfect. Not yet.”  
Taylor cringed as another cramp hit his right foot and he couldn’t reach to hold it. He managed to not make a sound but he lost concentration in the meantime. The next time he looked up Eric was standing over him again holding the leash.  
“Ready to come out now?” he taunted.  
Taylor felt like it was a trap, as he usually did with Fenton. But he nodded.  
“Try again,” Eric was patient.  
“Yes?” Taylor gulped, unsure if Eric actually wanted him to say ‘no’.  
“Try again.”  
Taylor closed his eyes, praying for the hundredth time that the games would end.  
“No?” he guessed.  
There was no response. When he looked up again Eric’s eyes had narrowed and it immediately put him on edge. Eric was getting annoyed.  
“How hard is it…” he began sternly, “for kids these days to appropriately address their superiors?”  
Taylor bit his lip as it clicked.  
“Yes Sir?” he tried again before Eric could go on.  
“Finally,” Eric conceded, pulling the key from his pocket.  
Taylor couldn’t sigh with relief, not knowing what was coming once the door opened. He had trouble straightening his legs at first and kicked his left out to make sure the chain was out of the way, before carefully trying to push himself out without hurting his arm any further.  
The first thing Eric did was connect the leash to the collar.  
“Hands and knees,” he ordered before Taylor could sit.  
He obeyed despite the pain in his limbs, keeping his chin up but his eyes down. Eric had gone over the protocol relentlessly the day before and Taylor knew nothing would be done about his arm unless he did exactly as Eric said when he said it.  
If Eric planned to do anything about it at all. But there was always that small chance he might.  
Eric stepped around him and shifted the cage aside, momentarily dropping the leash as he went back to the rack. Taylor didn’t dare move. He spent the moment trying to focus on CNN without actually looking toward it to try and guess what time of morning it was. The time of day would tell him whether Fenton was still there or not.  
He heard his footsteps as Eric returned, his shoulders receding when he took a stance over him. Taylor tried to hold still as Eric leant forward but his arms involuntarily started to shake. The next thing he felt was the bar gag being forced into his jaw and Eric fastening the strap behind his head. As soon as it went in Taylor knew he wasn’t going to get any food or water again for a while.  
“Good boy,” Eric ruffled his hair when he was done, stepping over him again and taking up the leash.  
It was midway through the morning bulletin. Fenton would have already left for work. Taylor was going to have to wait until he got home for any kind of reprieve, he knew it.  
“Come,” Eric lead him back toward the bed.  
Taylor had to concentrate to keep his chin up as Eric pulled on the leash, listening as the ankle chain snaked along the ground behind him. Eric went to the end of the bed and took a seat before ordering Taylor to ‘sit’ in front of him.  
“Today we’re going to concentrate on your level of resistance,” he announced once Taylor had sat back onto his legs, “you’re doing well so far, but they’re not coming for a free ride. So to speak.”  
Taylor frowned, not sure where he was going. The only times he’d resisted so far were when Eric was purposely trying to hurt him, and he’d been punished for it in kind.  
Eric suddenly raised his hand as if to slap him. Taylor cringed back, but not far enough that he was out of the way.  
“See that’s good,” Eric assured, not bothering to actually hit him and instead cupping his chin in his hand, “however there’s another problem we’re going to have…”  
Taylor remained leaning to the side as he watched Eric reach into a pocket. He pulled out something black with a clearly defined buckle at one end.  
“You won’t see it coming,” he said absently as he fiddled with it.  
Taylor let out a grunt when he realised what it was and unconsciously cradled his left arm. The next thing he knew the buckle had hit him in the left temple.  
“Don’t touch it,” Eric ordered as Taylor’s hand went to his head instead, “it’s a punishment. You’ll have to deal with it in your own time.”  
Taylor grunted again as Eric took him by the hair to pull him forward onto his hands and knees again. The last thing he saw before the blindfold went on was a smudge of blood on the floorboards, but he couldn’t tell if it had come from his arm or from his face.  
“Chin up,” he felt a tug on the leash once Eric was done, “we don’t want anyone thinking you’re a cry-baby. There’ll be plenty of time for that later.”


	90. Chapter 90

Taylor didn’t have time to pay attention to CNN’s clock, but when Fenton finally arrived home that day he managed to hear the car over Eric talking. Unable to hide his distraction he was punished for not paying attention by the shorter whip in Eric’s hand gracing the back of his right leg.  
“You think he’s here to save you?” Eric almost laughed as Taylor cried out at the sting, “this was his idea! You and I have a lot more time to spend together before next Friday. That’s a simple truth.”  
Taylor winced as he tried to calculate in his head what the date would be. It had to be when they’d planned… whatever this thing was going to be. At the moment his consolation was that in two weeks it would hopefully be over and done with and he and Fenton might get back to their normal.  
As Taylor had hoped, Fenton came straight to the basement door. Eric didn’t feel the need to keep it closed knowing very well that Taylor wouldn’t get far if he tried. Aside from an hour Eric had taken for lunch, he hadn’t been left alone all day.  
Fenton had arrived in time to find Eric on the chair with Taylor kneeling between his legs. The blindfold hadn’t come off all day.  
“What are you doing?” he heard Fenton’s voice.  
“Oh good, you’re home,” Eric pretended to be surprised, “there’s a few things I need to go over with you.”  
He kicked Taylor out of the way so that he could stand up. Taylor fell onto his side but quickly pulled himself back onto his hands and knees.  
“What is it?” Fenton hadn’t moved from the top of the stairs.  
“For a start, these.”  
Taylor heard a small jangle and immediately knew Eric had picked up his necklaces. He automatically bit down harder on the gag.  
“What about them?” Fenton’s footsteps started to descend, “I told you they stay here.”  
“This could be a problem,” Eric’s voice was low but insistent, “along with just about everything else in here.”  
“What do you mean?” Fenton was confused.  
“This!” Eric’s voice rose and Taylor felt him step aside, “the books, the paintings, the… what even is that? I don’t know what that is.”  
“He needs it for his exercises,” Fenton insisted.  
“These are distractions,” Eric was talking down to him, “he doesn’t need them. All of this is just taking more time and energy away from you. _You_ should be his one and only focus.”  
“He said he was bored.”  
Taylor could feel Fenton’s eyes on him. He couldn’t even feel embarrassed. He just wanted to know what was going to happen to his necklaces. Or to his paintings.  
He wasn’t in a position to argue anything they decided.  
“Of course he’s bored,” Eric scoffed, “he’s supposed to be. That’s what eventually ties him closer to you. The highlight of his day should be when you walk through that door and demand something of him.”  
Taylor yelped in surprise when Eric unexpectedly pulled on the leash.  
“Chin up,” he reminded him.  
Taylor hadn’t even registered his head lowering. It was somehow just easier to hear that way.  
“You want me to get rid of everything?”   
“It would be a start. I know you think you’re in love,” Eric’s voice gave away exactly what he thought about the situation, “but the kid has it too easy down here. This is why you’re having problems.”  
“I didn’t consider us to be having problems,” Fenton sounded dismal.  
“So no objections to anything you ask of him?” Eric had to know he was hitting the right buttons.  
There came an awkward moment of silence, which made Taylor badly wish that he could see their expressions. Fenton must have been deciding what to do.  
“Give me a hand,” he finally said.  
Taylor let out a despaired grunt when he realised Fenton had agreed. A sharp kick in the side followed it and his hands could no longer hold him up.  
“Get up,” Eric scorned, tugging on the leash.  
“Leave him be, we have work to do,” Fenton insisted.  
“Are you kidding? He _is_ the work,” Eric scoffed, “get up!”  
Taylor yelped as he was hit again but managed to force himself up onto his elbows.  
“If you won’t stay up, I’ll find something to keep you up.”  
“Eric,” Fenton was getting uneasy, “what should I do with the paintings? He created them. I can’t have anything of his in the house.”  
“Burn them.”  
Taylor could feel tears forming behind the blindfold as he finally made it back to his hands and knees, his arms shaking from supporting his weight. With Eric taking charge he hadn’t had a chance to read or to paint, but the thought that he might never be able to again was soul-crushing.   
“I’m not sure that I could,” Fenton admitted.  
“Why not?” Eric was evidently fed up by now, “what did you think you were going to do with them? Have an exhibition? Make a gallery? You shouldn’t have given them to him in the first place. He could have stabbed you with a paintbrush many times over by now.”  
“He didn’t.”  
“Well that’s on him. Let’s move it out.”  
Taylor didn’t dare move as they worked around him, making multiple trips up and down the stairs. It probably didn’t take them long but to Taylor it felt like forever. In the meantime Fenton made the quip of ‘I need to see his eyes’ again to which Eric pointed out that Fenton didn’t need to be there.  
The blindfold did eventually come off. Long after Fenton had given up and retired upstairs. Eric paid no mind to how red and tired Taylor’s eyes were and Taylor could see right away that he was preparing to put him in the cage again for the night.  
He could also see that aside from Fenton’s furniture, the basement was once again bare. The easel was gone, his books were gone… the only thing left in his area was one of the steel pails.   
“Pay attention,” Eric snapped his fingers, making Taylor’s eyes dart to them, “head down.”  
Taylor dipped his head so that Eric could remove the gag. At this point the removal of it felt very much like mercy. There was no reason why Eric couldn’t leave it there for the night if he wanted.  
“Get in,” he instructed once it was gone.  
Taylor obeyed after only a slight hesitation. He managed to contort himself in a way he wished he had the night before which he hoped would be slightly more comfortable, and as soon as his feet cleared the door he heard the lock snap shut.  
“May I please have some water?” he asked before Eric could walk away, purposely having waited until he was out of reach.  
“No,” Eric responded right away, “but if you behave you might get some tomorrow.”  
Taylor knew he had to take it and said nothing. Instead he waited until Eric finally left the basement for the night and turned his focus to tending to his damaged arm.


	91. Chapter 91

Taylor didn’t see Fenton all night. He slept easier in the different position but he still woke multiple times with cramping in his legs. When morning came he woke in time to hear the basement door closing, and Fenton leaving for work. He assumed he’d quickly checked on him before heading out.  
Unable to get back to sleep as his stomach began to torment him, he listened to CNN as he waited for Eric. The thought crossed his mind that this would have been a good time to cry for help, but he barely had enough energy to move and knew his voice wouldn’t carry very far. It wasn’t worth the risk when he knew Eric would arrive at any moment.  
He vaguely remembered back to a time when he would have thought the risk was well worth it.  
Eric hadn’t been far away. It was about a half hour before Taylor heard him coming through the front door. Despite his lethargy he was glad he was awake this time. The marks he had from the whips were beginning to grow in number and he couldn’t trust the safety of the cage.  
When Taylor saw that Eric had brought the duffel with him he couldn’t even feel his heart racing as it would normally. But when Eric set it on the bed and pulled a fresh bottle of water from it, Taylor found himself paying attention.   
Eric made his way back to the cage and stood in front of it looking down.  
“Good morning,” he greeted casually.  
“Good morning Sir,” Taylor responded softly, eyes on the bottle.  
He half hoped Eric would just throw it over him. He was sure his skin was cracking all over.  
Eric screwed the cap off and Taylor’s eyes followed as he took a swig himself. He sighed when he was done before looking down again.  
“You want some of this today?” he seemed to offer.  
“Yes Sir,” Taylor still couldn’t find the energy to move, “please.”  
“Hmm,” Eric returned the cap to the bottle, “well you’re going to have to work for it.”  
He turned to take it back to the duffel. Once he’d put it back he dropped the bag onto the floor before returning to the cage and unlocking the door. He didn’t have the leash with him this time.  
“Come on out,” he insisted as he walked back to the bed.  
He took a seat on the edge to wait as Taylor forced himself out. It took longer than it had the day before but he finally managed to pull himself up to his hands and knees.   
“Come here,” Eric said patiently, keeping his eye on him.  
Taylor dryly swallowed before obeying. He stopped where Eric indicated, right between the man’s legs again.  
“Let’s see what you’re willing to do for it, shall we?” Eric was smiling now as he reached for his belt buckle.  
Taylor didn’t even react. He knew it had been coming, though he hadn’t expected it so soon. If this was how he was going to stay alive – once again – there was no sense in crying about it. It had to be just another day at the office. He’d done it before and he could easily do it again.  
It was different than with Fenton. In the very few times Fenton had forced him to perform fellatio he’d seemed to take on a different persona. One he fell into whenever he dealt out physical punishment. One that Taylor had steadily grown more and more afraid of. He continued to hope that one day he just simply wouldn’t be afraid anymore, that he’d take it as commonplace, but if it was ever coming that day seemed to be further and further away. Taylor was scared. He had to admit it to himself at the least.  
Eric on the other hand was patient, unlike he had been in the past. Now that he technically wasn’t forcing Taylor into it he was quite content to let him figure it out on his own. Taylor already knew what he wanted and how he wanted it, it was just a case of overcoming his personal demons to get the job done. And overcome them he did.  
Of course Eric didn’t want to stop there. As was reiterated many times, Taylor had to be prepared for what anyone might possibly want from him the following week, and today Eric began exploiting that. When he broke for lunch Eric left him to roam the basement, but he took the duffel – along with the bottle of water – with him upstairs.   
Taylor wanted to use the free time to lay on the bed, but he was afraid he’d fall asleep and Eric would find him there. So instead he just sat at the end to wait for him to come back. Not having access to water he couldn’t even do any cleaning for Fenton while he waited… not that he had the energy, but the thought had been there.  
He took some time to check over his arm, which seemed to be doing alright but had started to bruise quite colourfully, and a particularly large welt Eric had left him with the day before. Neither were worse than anything Fenton had inflicted in the past.   
His hands soon went to the collar. He hadn’t dared touch it since Eric had put it on, worried he’d be too tempted to remove it himself. The buckle was simple and it wasn’t locked. But Taylor knew it was probably some kind of test that Eric was leaving him with the option to remove it and the thought of further repercussions made his hands fall again almost instantly.   
There was nothing but CNN to stop him getting sick with worry about when Eric would come back.  
Eric was only gone for a half hour but it had felt a lot longer. Taylor had almost vomited at least twice in the meantime, but managed to control himself in a way he had in the past while gagged. Eric barely missed a beat and had Taylor back to ‘work’ almost immediately.  
Fenton came home surprisingly early but Eric wasn’t bothered. He heard the door quickly open and close as Fenton checked that Eric was still down there and he wasn’t seen again until Eric left for the night. As was quickly becoming routine, Taylor was again locked into the cage. Assuming it was due to the distraction and nothing malicious Taylor hadn’t brought up that Eric hadn’t given him any water before he left. But then maybe he just hadn’t done a good enough job to deserve it that day…  
He’d have to try harder tomorrow.  
Fenton paid a visit shortly before lights out. Very hesitantly, he took a seat at the bottom of the stairs once again. Taylor’s eyes followed him but he didn’t make a sound. The less he spoke, the less likely they were to gag him at the moment.  
“Are you alright?” Fenton broke the silence between them.  
Taylor took a moment to centre himself, forcing himself not to answer in a way Eric would want.  
“Sure,” he replied, his voice somehow even more scratchy than the last time they’d spoken.  
“Is Eric helping you?”  
“I guess…” Taylor frowned, working with Fenton’s definition of the word, “he wants me to resist, but not so much that they won’t get what they want from me. He wants me to do exactly as they say but still make sure it’s obvious that I’m unwilling. It’s a little confusing.”  
“An unwilling participant is a large drawcard,” Fenton agreed, “he wants to make sure his friends get their moneys’ worth.”  
“I figured,” Taylor coughed a little, “can you… could I please have some water yet? Eric forgot today.”  
Taylor could see Fenton shake his head from where he was and his head fell back in defeat. He was going to have to somehow convince Eric to give in the following day. While he knew Fenton wouldn’t let it go so far that he couldn’t come back, he wasn’t sure how far they were willing to push him.


	92. Chapter 92

“Fourth of July, huh?”  
Fenton frowned, and Taylor wondered if he was already crossing a line. He didn’t really feel up to talking at all but Fenton wasn’t moving from the stairs. He needed a distraction.  
“Yes,” he replied.  
Taylor was a little surprised he responded at all. But he’d all but given up on Fenton being predictable in anything but day to day life. The man definitely had some form of OCD and needed everything to be his version of perfect, but when it came to BD…  
“It would be least suspicious to have people over on a day marked for other celebration,” Fenton went on, distracting Taylor from his thought pattern, “particularly Eric and his… friends. I shouldn’t speculate as a few are my friends also.”  
“You never talk about your friends,” Taylor just hoped Fenton could hear him at this point, he couldn’t speak any louder.  
“I don’t see them very often anymore.”  
Taylor had gathered that. Practically all of Fenton’s time had been dedicated to him since he’d arrived. He couldn’t stop himself feeling a little guilty.  
“You should see them this week,” he suggested, “while Eric’s here.”  
“I don’t like leaving him alone with you,” Taylor noticed him avoiding eye contact again, “I don’t entirely trust him.”  
It was a little late for that. Taylor couldn’t imagine Eric doing anything worse to him than he already had. But the thought alone worried him, knowing he’d been proven wrong so many times before.  
“I’ll see a few of them next week,” Fenton amended as if to reassure him.  
“Do you know how many people are coming yet?” Taylor’s brow furrowed worriedly, knowing he had no control over it regardless.  
“I’m not sure,” Fenton admitted, “at least three I know personally.”  
Taylor’s eyes fell to the floor as he again wondered what they could want from him. What exactly were they paying for? Just to rape him?  
Was that seriously going to free Fenton from his debts?  
He jumped when Fenton moved, taking to his feet and turning to start up the stairs.  
“Fenton?” he had to cough at raising his own voice.  
Fenton paused as he caught his breath again.   
“What happened to my paintings?” he didn’t really want to know the answer, but he knew it would haunt him otherwise.  
Fenton paused again, every second of it killing Taylor inside a little more. Finally he turned and came all the way down the stairs.  
“We had to destroy them,” he sounded regretful as he came to the cage, “I’m afraid I can’t have anything that ties you to me in my house.”  
Taylor bit his lip as his fear was realised.   
“I saw your messages,” Fenton also revealed, “to your family.”  
“I’m sorry,” Taylor felt he should apologise, “I know I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”  
“They’re gone,” Fenton assured, “it doesn’t matter now.”  
It mattered to Taylor. It mattered to no longer have an outlet for his thoughts. It mattered that he’d somehow convinced himself the messages were getting through, even though he consciously knew there was no way they could.  
“Did you destroy my clothes too?” he asked with a shake to his voice, “my necklaces?”  
“Everything you had with you was burned within a few days,” Fenton almost seemed confused as to why he’d ask, “everything except your necklaces.”  
Taylor looked up at that, unsure if he just meant they were destroyed another way.  
“What about them?” he knew he wouldn’t get an answer if he didn’t ask outright.  
“Eric has taken them for me, for now. They may come back they may not.”  
“You trust him to keep them?” Taylor was only more confused.  
“Not entirely,” Fenton admitted, “but we needed to focus. This seemed like the best way to do it.”  
Taylor lay his head down again, knowing what he meant.   
“Get some sleep,” Fenton insisted as he turned to leave again, “Eric will return in the morning.”  
“Will I get any time with you before next Friday?” Taylor asked without moving, or looking.  
Fenton paused again, possibly surprised at the question.  
“The weekend, hopefully,” he replied, “Eric will have his own work to take care of.”  
With that, he retired for the night. Taylor didn’t bother trying to move to get comfortable in the cage, he knew it wouldn’t work and he was already too spent. He fell unconscious almost as soon as the light went out.  
When morning came he woke in time to hear Fenton open and close the door before leaving for work. He fell back to sleep for the subsequent half hour before Eric returned. He vaguely worried that Eric would think he was asleep when he wasn’t, but he just wasn’t up to moving anymore… even when Eric unlocked the cage door for the morning.  
“Come on out,” Eric insisted, “unless you want to be locked in there for good.”  
Taylor wasn’t sure he cared at this point. He was getting very close to wanting to fall asleep without waking up again.   
“Okay fine, so I wouldn’t do that,” Eric bent over to take hold of Taylor’s ankles, “it would get too boring out here all alone.”  
Taylor grunted – his tired version of a yelp – as Eric dragged him out onto the floor. He was already shivering with fear at what Eric might do now that he couldn’t even defend himself, so he was surprised that when Eric lifted him by the hair it wasn’t to hit him.  
The moment the water hit his lips he completely forgot where he was. He couldn’t concentrate on anything but getting it down his throat. The coolness alone helped to lower his own body temperature and he could already sense his faculties coming back to him. If only enough to recognise what was going on.  
Eric didn’t give him the whole bottle, stopping about halfway before dropping him to the floor again.  
“You’re weak,” he stated blandly, “weaker than I expected. Seems like Jim’s been walking the line a little too fine.”  
Taylor just tried to get his breath back after taking in the water so desperately. When he thought he could breathe again he finally looked up at where Eric was. He was readying the pulley. Eric soon saw him watching.  
“Just a little insurance,” he mused, “I need you to be upright today. You’ll forgive me if I don’t trust you to stay…”  
Taylor groaned as Eric pulled him up, locking some leather restraints onto his wrists and attaching them to the pulley. Eric then used the chain to pull him up instead of struggling with it himself.  
Taylor couldn’t even hold himself up, which left his feet dragging slackly along the floorboards.  
“Today, we need to start concentrating on you,” Eric ran a finger up his abdomen, “and what makes you succumb to your body. So tell me… what gets you off, Taylor Hanson?”


	93. Chapter 93

“Taylor? Where are you?”  
“I don’t know,” he struggled to open his eyes.  
When he finally did, all he could see was blur.  
“Taylor?”  
He couldn’t help but smile. He still recognised the voice. It no longer mattered where he was or what was happening, as long as he could hear that voice.  
He felt the hair being pulled back from his face but he couldn’t lift his head yet.  
“I’ve been waiting for you,” he whispered, glad to just feel the touch after so long.  
“I’m glad to hear. I thought you might have forgotten me by now.”  
“I could never forget,” Taylor’s voice broke as he forced the tears at bay before leaning in as she kissed him.  
It felt like coming home. It felt as though he’d been wandering the desert and finally found paradise. It felt as though every heartbeat had lead up to this very moment.  
Until he opened his eyes and Natalie wasn’t there. His heart breaking yet again when he realised she never had been.  
In her place stood Fenton. Calmly and quietly.   
“What just happened?” Taylor was confused, unsure if he’d dreamt it or actually hallucinated his wife being there.  
“Hush,” Fenton whispered back, his hand going to Taylor’s jaw.  
Taylor’s eyes darted around the room, taking in that Eric wasn’t there. His attention was pulled back when Fenton’s thumb trailed up his cheek.  
“You are so beautiful,” he whispered breathlessly.  
Taylor wanted to pull away, but didn’t. He wasn’t entirely sure that this wasn’t a dream either. Where was Eric? He couldn’t remember him leaving. He couldn’t remember Fenton getting home.  
His thought pattern was broken when Fenton pulled him in for a kiss. In that moment Taylor knew it had been Fenton all along, and that he hadn’t been dreaming at all.  
Fenton didn’t pull back, leaving his forehead against Taylor’s when he was satisfied.   
“I’m never going home,” Taylor whispered to himself, feeling the grief he’d blocked off for so long come crashing back like a tidal wave.  
“No,” Fenton agreed, unmoving.  
Taylor closed his eyes, trying to get a hold of himself. Fenton took it as assent and leant in to kiss him again. Taylor didn’t have the energy to fight back.  
“You want to please me, don’t you?” Fenton asked when he finally leant back a little.  
“I do, I swear,” Taylor’s voice broke again, though he was surprised it got out at all.  
“Good,” Fenton’s hand ventured to the back of his neck and rubbed it reassuringly.  
Taylor leant back into the massage, his neck already aching. He had no idea how long he’d been hanging from the pulley. The last time he even remembered seeing Eric had been sometime after lunch.  
“Where’s Eric?” he had to ask as Fenton lightened his touch.  
“Gone for the day,” Fenton replied.  
Taylor looked up to where his wrists were locked, instantly putting two and two together on Eric having taken these keys with him instead.  
“You need to stand,” Fenton stood back further, “you will hurt your feet.”  
“I don’t think I can,” Taylor admitted sullenly, trying to move his legs though they felt like lead weights.  
Fenton looked momentarily worried before focusing on the pulley. He stepped over to it as Taylor tiredly dropped his head, intending to listen for what Fenton was doing but losing concentration again.  
He let out a grunt as the chain suddenly gave way. He only fell a few inches but it was enough to jolt him into paying attention again. He ducked his head to watch as Fenton struggled to let the pulley down gently, stopping it once Taylor made it to his knees.  
Taylor found he was able to hold himself up a lot easier with the added balance, shifting to get himself set as Fenton came back.  
“Thank you,” he looked up appreciatively.  
“I need to give you something to eat,” Fenton insisted, “can you handle that?”  
“I think so,” Taylor was more hopeful than sure, “what about Eric?”  
“He insists,” Fenton nodded as he turned, “you should be fed as normal until the day.”  
Taylor sighed with relief as Fenton left the basement. At least he’d hopefully get some energy back.  
He wondered what had made Eric change his mind, and fleetingly remembered his comment that morning about Fenton maybe having gone too far. He wasn’t sure what he meant by that, considering Eric had been the one forbidding Fenton to feed him. Perhaps how little Fenton had fed him since day one? Eric had to notice his drastic weight loss, even if he had seen Taylor more than Taylor had seen himself before the day he’d realised.   
When Fenton returned with the biscuits Taylor realised he wasn’t going to be able to feed himself. Instead he waited as Fenton knelt in front of him and took the time to break them into smaller pieces before offering them each individually. The situation only reiterated how dependant he was on the man. But Taylor found himself less concerned with such shows of dominance lately, and more so with his own role in them and how he could keep Fenton happy. He just wanted to get through a week without adding to his bruise count, but it didn’t seem likely as long as Eric was in charge.  
When he’d had as much food as he could handle and had another drink of water, Fenton sat with him silently for a while. Taylor took the time to centre himself and was grateful both for Fenton’s presence and his silence. He just didn’t want to be alone.  
Come the weekend Eric didn’t appear on either Saturday or Sunday. Fenton let Taylor roam free while he was at work on the Saturday, but he was still retired to the cage each night. On Monday he was back seemingly without skipping a beat. Taylor found the second week somehow easier, most likely because he was starting to figure out exactly what Eric wanted even if it wasn’t vocalised. He couldn’t see how a lot of what Eric did would apply on the Friday night but he wasn’t about to question his methods either. He must have had reason, even if that reason was his own amusement.  
Come Thursday night Fenton carefully bathed him, a little more rigorously than usual. The most unusual part of the process came when Fenton took the time to carefully wash his hair with some kind of medical shampoo. Taylor had gotten used to how oily it had become, and sometimes been surprised at how it didn’t seem to bother Fenton in the slightest. He was unable to help with his hands cuffed behind him at the time but Fenton was both gentle and thorough.  
Eric didn’t show on Friday until mid-afternoon. Fenton had the day off for the holiday, but he spent barely any time downstairs. All day Taylor heard the sound of furniture moving upstairs and Fenton bustling in the kitchen. As directed, Fenton hadn’t fed him since the night before.  
Taylor was distracted by the echoes of people in the street all afternoon. A sound he hadn’t heard in a very long time. He was back on the short chain as he awaited his fate, but he wasn’t waiting long.


	94. Chapter 94

Taylor felt like he was about to walk the green mile as they prepared him. Fenton went over him with a wet towel just to be sure he was clean, and Eric had readied some restraints. It wasn’t until Eric was ready to put the blindfold on that Taylor got his first shock.  
They weren’t staying in the basement.  
Taylor didn’t want to argue about the blindfold while Eric was in the room but he felt his heart race at the possibility of seeing what the upstairs of the house looked like. Even if he couldn’t find a way out it would at least help settle his curiosity on the matter.   
But Eric was the one to fit the blindfold, so he didn’t get the chance to protest. Perhaps afterward he might get his chance, knowing that Eric had insisted on the blindfold to pacify certain ‘clients’. Eric made it tighter than he had before – almost unnecessarily so – and Taylor heard a lock go on when he was done. When Eric stepped away Taylor gingerly put his hand to the back to feel exactly where the small padlock was, and he could tell right away that he wouldn’t be getting it off on his own.  
“Don’t touch it,” Eric insisted, without hitting him this time.  
Taylor’s hand immediately fell.  
He listened intently for what the two were doing, but all he could concentrate on was the sound of chains moving along the floor. He registered that the ankle chain was one of the ones moving, but they weren’t taking it from him.  
“Stand up,” he heard Fenton somewhere in front of him.  
He stood from the bed and let Fenton turn him. The leather cuffs were once again locked onto his wrists and padlocked together. While this was happening Taylor heard a chain moving up the stairs and his heart already began to race.  
“Okay,” he heard Eric at the top of the stairs, “bring him up.”  
Fenton took Taylor by the arm and carefully led him to the stairs. Taylor was sure he could have counted the steps even if he had been spun in a circle with the blindfold still on, but he was wary while he didn’t know where Eric had the chain. Many times he’d climbed up and down the stairs as far as he could go with his eyes closed as he tried to waste time down there, but it was different with Fenton guiding him.  
It was different when he was suddenly able to go further.  
He had to pause at the step as if to be sure he was really feeling something new. With his eyes covered he couldn’t really tell that the stairs wouldn’t just go on forever.   
When he hit the landing he could feel floorboards. Not like the ones in the basement – these were polished. It felt foreign, though he knew they must have been similar to ones in his own house.  
The thought made him swallow awkwardly before jumping as Eric took hold of his other arm. The two led him through the house, and while paying attention to the directions Taylor guessed their destination as the living room. Once there he was sat on a chair similar to the one he had downstairs and told not to move.  
He heard locks clicking into place as the ankle chain moved again, and figured he had a new anchor. But he could still move his leg so it must have had some reach to it.   
“Are we done?” came Eric’s voice.  
“Are you alright?” Taylor jumped when he felt Fenton’s hand on his shoulder.  
He nodded and Fenton took it away.  
“I have some more work in the kitchen,” he told Eric.  
“Want me to string him up?”  
“No,” Fenton replied as Taylor frowned at Eric’s wording, “it can wait. We have some time.”  
Taylor heard him leave the room, in the direction he’d guessed the kitchen to be. He could already smell a great deal of food and his stomach easily tormented him because of it. He could hear Eric walking around nearby but jumped again when he felt the man’s hands suddenly rest on his knees.  
“A few ground rules,” he began in a low voice, as if to not let Fenton hear.   
He was leaning in uncomfortably close, but Taylor figured this wasn’t the best time to be worried by that.  
“Most important rule. If at any point you feel like you can’t breathe, no matter the reason, you need to snap your fingers to alert us. Do you understand?”  
“Yes Sir.”  
“Same rule applies if you need to vomit. If you cannot snap your fingers at the time you will need to make three consecutive grunts. Understand?”  
“Yes Sir.”  
“If you abuse this scapegoat because you simply don’t like what’s happening at the time, I will personally choke you until you pass out.”  
Taylor nodded, unable to get the words out after that.   
“Good,” and Eric moved away.  
Taylor took a deep breath and tried to clear his mind, not letting himself panic when he didn’t know for sure how far it was going to go. He was soon distracted by a knock at the door and he felt his heart leap into his throat.  
“Someone’s early,” Eric muttered to himself as he went to answer.  
It was somewhere to Taylor’s right on a diagonal. Taylor easily assumed he couldn’t be seen from it.   
“Welcome,” he heard Eric greet, “come on in. We’re just setting up.”  
“I’m early?”  
“Not by much.”  
Taylor was taken aback by the gruff voice. He immediately got the vision of a large biker in his head and couldn’t get rid of it. His teeth clenched as he felt himself starting to shiver, hoping Eric would keep him distracted for a while.  
“Take a seat,” Eric brought him into the room, “Jim’s just finishing up some of the refreshments.”  
“This is it?”  
Taylor felt his shoulders recede and his toes turn in further. The tone of the man’s voice told him exactly what – rather who – he was referring to.   
“Stay tuned,” Eric assured, “Jim! Get in here!”  
Taylor heard the man take a seat on a couch not far in front of him as noise came from the kitchen.  
“He’s well hung, I’ll give him that.”  
Taylor instantly flushed red, breathing only slightly easier when Fenton returned to the room.  
“You’re early,” Fenton didn’t approve.  
“So I am.”  
“Not by long,” Eric assured, “let’s get this over with.”  
Taylor sat up straight as the two came toward him and he heard chains moving to his right. One of them – he wasn’t sure who – began fastening something to his left ankle, and when the same thing happened to his right he realised it was the bar Eric had made him wear on Fenton’s birthday.  
Once his ankles were secure he felt Fenton’s hands guide him down to his knees. Eric went for the cuffs and pulled his right arm up to an angle, where his wrist was locked to the chain he’d heard. Fenton soon did the same to his left and his arms were pulled taut into a rough V.


	95. Chapter 95

Taylor couldn’t concentrate. There were too many people in the room. Too many voices.  
He’d counted them off as they’d come in. There were at least five men and possibly one woman. He wasn’t entirely sure the last one was female as they hadn’t spoken yet, but they’d been referred to as ‘Lacey’. For all he knew it was just a pet name for another slave.  
At least this one got to see daylight.  
He didn’t hear any other names. Eric made a welcoming speech as Taylor silently knelt in front of them all, and he suspected at least two of them had already worked out who he was. He still held onto the hope that at least _someone_ had to have enough of a conscience that if they knew who he was they’d have to help him. But the general vibe of the room was not helping.   
Eric was laying out some ground rules as Taylor focused on noises in the background, but here he got another shock. One of Fenton’s rules required ‘no penetration’.   
He frowned in surprise as he again wondered what else he was here for.  
“Otherwise, enjoy the refreshments, don’t crowd him – remember he’s new, and have some fun. Make sure you feel you’re getting your money’s worth.”  
“You didn’t tell them what the big deal was,” Taylor heard the Southern accent of the tattooist somewhere to his right.  
“Excuse me?”  
“Why we’re paying so much when we don’t get to fuck him. Tell them who he is.”  
Taylor’s fists clenched as he felt eyes on him. The room suddenly felt a lot smaller.  
Instead of answering outright, Taylor heard the sound of paper rattling. A newspaper, even. His head dropped the moment the commotion started.  
“No way.”  
“The Mmmbop kid?”  
“ _I fucking knew it!_ ”  
“How the fuck did you pull this off? It was all over the news!”  
“It doesn’t even look like him. He’s old, and skinny.”  
Taylor heard Eric clear his throat as he struggled to maintain composure.   
“I predicted that at least one of you would need a little reassurance,” Eric said, before he heard a familiar beep.  
There came a scratchy audio sound for a moment, before a distant recorded voice came through. As soon as Taylor recognised it his face paled.  
It was a recording of him, singing along to _Only The Good Die Young_.  
“Where did you get that?” Fenton’s voice was the first he heard.  
“I recorded this while you were in Illinois,” Eric stated blandly, “kid was singing as if no one could hear.”  
“Oh shit,” Taylor breathed, before even realising he’d said it aloud.  
He knew Fenton was not going to be happy about that. Why hadn’t it occurred to him that those beeps had been an audio recorder? Why had he even trusted Eric that tiny bit?  
He heard movement in the room and buried his face in his right arm as a few of Fenton’s guests overcame their surprise.   
“I’ll pay you triple if you let me fuck him,” was the quote that stood out.  
“Sorry boys,” Eric seemed to be hosting this thing more so than Fenton, “rules are rules. But feel free to play around otherwise and… maybe indulge some past fantasies.”  
“Don’t know about that,” the tattooist spoke up, “it’s weird now cos he’s old. When he was a kid…”  
“He was too young,” Fenton piped up, “you’ll make do.”  
“Whatever.”  
Taylor flinched as someone took hold of his jaw, making him pull back from his arm. They moved his head side to side as if to test that it was really him.  
“I’ll bite,” it was the biker voice, “let’s see what he’s got.”  
Taylor yelped when he suddenly took hold of him with his other hand. The one holding his jaw quickly covered his mouth instead.  
“Can we get a gag over here?”  
“There’s a number of parties going on in the street tonight,” Eric was moving as he spoke, “don’t worry too much about the noise.”  
“Hey man don’t gag him, I want him to suck my dick!”  
“You’ll get your turn. I got here first,” the biker grumbled, taking his hand away from Taylor’s mouth only long enough for leather to replace it.  
Taylor already missed Fenton’s touch. These guys weren’t going to be gentle.  
“I kinda want to suck _his_ …”  
“Lacey get your clothes off.”  
“So what kinda food have we got? I’m starving!”  
Taylor had no idea how long he was poked, prodded, teased and edged. They pulled everything – his hair, his nipples, his genitals, and at some point he felt teeth. At times he couldn’t help but react by pulling helplessly on the chains or trying to stand up, but this along with his muffled cries only made them laugh and stirred them on.  
When the gag finally came off it was only so one of them could replace it.  
“His mouth’s as dry as the Sahara,” one of the voices scorned, “give me that.”  
Taylor coughed once his mouth was empty for the first time and tried to concentrate on something simple, like the hair sticking to his face. But someone soon grabbed him by the jaw and touched something to his lips.  
It was a can. Taylor hadn’t drunk anything from a can in a very long time. The taste of the can itself made him grimace even before he was forced to drink what was in it. It took him a moment to realise it was Dr Pepper. The acid bit into his tongue and as soon as it was pulled away he felt as though the sugar was making it swell. But he didn’t have time to dwell on it as someone forced themselves into him again just as soon as he’d swallowed.  
They took turns, and he was sure he had to service every one of them. Someone turned the television on loud but he couldn’t tell what program was on. He was very distracted with trying to keep himself breathing.  
At one point whoever had charge of Lacey demanded that she serviced Taylor while he served her master.   
He tried many times to focus his mind elsewhere. He figured – like with Eric, and sometimes even with Fenton – that if he separated his mind from his body just enough he wouldn’t care and eventually simply wouldn’t feel what was happening to it. But he continued to be rudely dragged back to reality by either a sharp bolt of pain in a random place or by a very demanding voice. He often heard Eric giving directions but he hadn’t heard Fenton’s voice for hours now.  
When they were finally done with fellatio Taylor was let down from the chains. He still couldn’t move due to the bar and he wouldn’t have anyway due to the blindfold, so he’d landed on his hands and knees to wait for whatever was next. Once again he wasn’t waiting long.


	96. Chapter 96

Someone took him by the hair and he felt his face being pressed into their genitals. Someone else had hold of a whip and had complained for a while at how bare his back was before laying a few large welts across it. At least one of them found it funny to hold his nose closed while his mouth was also full, and just when he was about to try and alert Eric they’d pull away.  
He wasn’t even sure if Eric was even in the room anymore. But surely at least he or Fenton had to be, just in case?  
He could hear plates and glasses clinking from somewhere over the other side of the room, where he guessed anyone who wasn’t touching him had retired to throughout the night. They were enjoying a fancy dinner while he was being tormented and beaten just a couple of yards away.   
A lot of them paid attention to his rear, despite Fenton’s rule. Nothing but fingers intruded but the talk he was hearing over him didn’t leave him very confident.  
At some point he ended up with the cuffs locked behind him, and unable to defend himself someone took the time to play with choking him. The second time it happened he could feel his face swelling red and he tried to call out for Fenton but he couldn’t make any audible noise. Before he could snap his fingers the person let go and he tried to fall forward as he coughed it out.   
“Someone get him a drink,” he heard the gruff voice call, followed by movement from the table area.  
There must have been at least three people around him while the rest were over the other side.   
“Don’t give him too much of that,” he heard Eric instruct from there, “he hasn’t eaten today.”  
“And that’s a problem how?” Taylor heard a glass clinking between coughs before hushed tones above him talking under the opposite loud voices.  
“Here, don’t let him see.”  
“What the fuck are you doing?”  
“I have an idea.”  
The glass clinked again and Taylor kept his head down.   
“Distract them for me.”  
“Hey Jim,” one of them immediately stepped aside, “how come you never shaved his head? That’s like a rite of passage man.”  
Taylor flinched as someone grabbed him by the hair and put the glass to his lips.  
“It’s not happening,” Fenton replied, and Taylor was glad to know he was still in the room.  
“I was going to talk to you about that,” was Eric.  
“Why not?”  
“Because I like his hair, and it’s my decision.”  
Taylor was sure they only liked it to pull. But while the argument continued his mouth suddenly filled with wine. He struggled to get it down his throat first, not expecting the taste, but once it was gone someone gave him a pat on the cheek and took the glass away.  
“No harm no foul.”  
“Get this kid upside down, I want to feel him out.”  
“Where’s Lacey?”  
“Bathroom. Want me to get her?”  
“That’s okay, we need it to kick in first. Where’s the electrodes?”  
Taylor grunted at that, keeping his head down again. Eric had only used them on him three times – including Fenton’s birthday – and he’d hoped they wouldn’t even think about them tonight. Apparently they were running out of ideas already, though Taylor was unsure of the time. Random bursts of fireworks in the street had been going off but he could never truly judge the time by them.  
Someone laughed at his reaction before he heard footsteps walking away and one of them asking Eric where they were. Taylor felt someone start playing with his fingers while they were gone. The touch was unnerving, as if they wanted him to lose his balance altogether.  
It didn’t take long for him to start feeling dizzy from the wine. He started to lose concentration a lot easier and he couldn’t hear them coming for him. The voices in the distance grew faded and he could no longer smell the food. Even when the electrodes were strapped to his legs and inner thighs it couldn’t snap him out of it.  
They evidently didn’t get the reaction anyone was after, so they were moved up to his genitals.  
Taylor heard voices rise in kind with his own. No one bothered trying to gag him either with their hand or anything else, because there was certainly enough noise outside in the street already. He fell flat onto his stomach as the pain coursed through him, and someone took hold of his shoulder to roll him onto his back. This was the most exposed he felt all night.  
They continued to tease and play with him, even between bursts from the electrodes. Sometimes at the same time. They made it a game to see how long he could hold out on them before he had to cum. He was so disoriented and in pain at one point that he did cry out for Fenton, but his cries went unheeded and again just seemed to stir them on. In the end he was so exhausted he just gave in and let his body go limp between attacks, and his tormentors noticed.  
“I think he’s ready,” Taylor heard one of them whisper, “you want to do it now?”  
“Someone needs to keep Jim busy. He’s been eyeing us like a hawk. And you’ll have to be quick.”  
“I can do quick. Where the fuck is Lacey? We can use her.”  
“I’ll get her.”  
“What are we doing about Jim?”  
Taylor cringed, almost hoping they were talking about killing him. But he was pretty sure he already knew what they wanted. He just couldn’t find the willpower to yell out to Fenton and warn him.  
He couldn’t even find the energy to cry about it anymore.  
He heard a girl’s cry across the room as Lacey was dragged back.   
“Hey Jim! I believe you promised me a personal tour of your dungeon.”  
“Not tonight.”  
“I’m not expecting anything from you, I just want to see is all…”  
“You guys are gonna be in so much shit if he catches you,” Taylor heard the tattooist whisper as Fenton assented in the background.  
“If he catches us. Bring Lacey here. I want her to suck him off while he’s sucking you.”  
“Fair call.”  
Taylor groaned as he was pulled back up and his wrists were unlocked from behind him. Whichever one of them it was locked them together again in front before forcing him up onto his hands and knees.   
Somehow Taylor could tell that Fenton had already left the room. Knowing that he was now only at the mercy of Eric sent a shiver down his spine, and when the tattooist noticed his goose bumps he laughed.  
“Lacey,” the other voice instructed harshly, “suck him. Let’s do this.”  
Fingers that he now knew belonged to the tattooist slid through his hair and pulled his head back. Different hands grasped at his hips. He felt Lacey’s lips close over him, and the tattooist suddenly pulled him forward. With his mouth full he couldn’t cry out when the person behind went in.


	97. Chapter 97

Taylor’s eyes slid open and he felt his stomach lurching. He didn’t feel like he had the energy to move, but somehow managed to pull himself to the side of the bed before roughly vomiting onto the floor. He was seconds into his recovery when he heard the basement door hit something as it opened and Fenton’s footsteps rushing down the stairs.  
“Taylor?” he sounded worried.  
Taylor was still leaning over the side of the bed, unable to concentrate on anything but breathing right now. He couldn’t register anything but disorientation and Fenton’s hand on his shoulder.  
“Taylor? Are you alright?”  
Taylor groaned and rolled onto his back once he felt that he’d finished, only then feeling the shackles back on his ankles. He kept his eyes closed tight and his hands on his head as he waited for the room to stop spinning. It was taking a long time.  
“Are you alright?” Fenton asked again, Taylor wasn’t sure how many times.  
“No,” he finally answered, already feeling nauseas again.  
He felt Fenton sit on the bed beside him and covered his mouth with his hand just in case. When he looked across at the doctor he was looking down almost forlorn.  
“What happened?” he asked, trying to remember.  
Fenton was about to respond when Taylor frowned and suddenly struggled to sit himself up.  
“What happened?” he asked again, “I don’t remember coming back down here!”  
Had he missed his chance to find a way out? Was he dragged back down here kicking and screaming? _Did he_ try and escape?  
Why was he sick?  
“Calm down,” Fenton rested a hand on his thigh, “you’re unwell.”  
“Why?” Taylor’s eyes shot to him, “why don’t I remember what happened last night?!”  
Fenton sighed, as if debating whether or not to tell him.  
“You were drugged,” he finally admitted.  
“What?” Taylor’s frown only deepened.  
“With Rohypnol,” Fenton explained, “I noticed the signs and I pulled you away. Sadly not fast enough to stop everything.”  
Taylor swallowed hard, mostly trying to force himself not to vomit a second time. He focused on the shackles purely so he had somewhere to anchor his wavering vision.  
“They gave me the date-rape drug?” he wasn’t sure he had it right.  
“I want you to concentrate on getting better,” Fenton insisted without moving, “I’ve taken the day off to watch over you. Then we need to talk.”  
“About what?” Taylor looked up again.  
With the things he did remember from the night before, it terrified him to think of what might have happened once the drug had kicked in.  
“You were… penetrated by someone last night,” Fenton had trouble saying, “I need to know who.”  
“Are you serious?” Taylor’s brows rose.  
“Yes.”  
“I was blindfolded!” Taylor couldn’t help but scorn, “I couldn’t pick any one of them out of a line-up if I had to! Wasn’t that the point?”  
“We will find a way,” Fenton assured before standing from the bed, “and I need to know. Let me clean up this mess and we’ll talk some more once you’ve calmed down.”  
Taylor’s eyes followed him to the stairs before looking across at the television. His eyes still hadn’t focused enough for him to be able to tell the time of day. Instead he held his stomach and fell back onto the bed to stare at the ceiling.   
He was angry. He hadn’t felt angry in a long time. How could Fenton let that happen to him? He and Eric were the only ones he had to rely on in that situation, and this is what happened?  
More importantly, he’d lost an opportunity. _He’d left the basement_. He hadn’t considered it a possibility in a very long time, and when it finally happened… he got nothing out of it. He hated himself for letting that get away.  
Fenton was soon back and mopping the floor. Taylor ignored him for the most part as he tried to calm down. He couldn’t concentrate while Fenton was in the room, but when he left again he heard the midday bulletin ending on CNN. Fenton kept the basement door open – Taylor assumed in case he heard him being sick again – but spent most of his time upstairs cleaning up.   
A few hours went by before Taylor heard a knock at the door. The sound made him sit up as he wondered if he should try yelling, but as soon as Fenton answered Taylor could tell that it was Eric. Once again defeated, he lowered himself down onto his side and began to pray that Eric wouldn’t come down. He must have been there to go over the night before. It actually made Taylor wonder if Eric had been in on drugging him in the first place.  
It was while he was futilely trying to hear what they were saying that he suddenly realised he was on the bed for the first time in two weeks. He closed his eyes and forced his body to relax into it, just in case it wasn’t something that would stay. He was sure Eric wouldn’t approve.  
Eric wasn’t there long, and once he was gone Fenton opened and closed some cupboards before returning to the basement door. He leant over the railing to look down on the bed and waited for Taylor to open his eyes again.  
“Would you like some water?” he offered.  
“Yes please,” Taylor leant up a little, suddenly realising he hadn’t had any yet.  
Fenton disappeared and returned with a fresh bottle, opting to walk it down to him instead of throwing it as he would usually. Taylor sat up in order to drink from it.  
“What did Eric want?” he asked, as usual not sure if he’d get an answer.  
“He was bringing over some of the money from last night,” Fenton replied, watching him with the bottle.  
“Some?”  
“We may get more,” Fenton shrugged.  
“Did you get enough?” Taylor was worried to ask.  
“For now, yes,” Fenton assured, settling his hands in his lap, “it was not enough to secure the other house, but enough to get us back on top.”  
“So we’re not moving then?” Taylor wasn’t sure whether he should be glad or not.  
“We still are, it just may take longer. We’ll know within a few short weeks for sure. Otherwise I may need to ask Eric a favour.”  
“A monetary favour?” Taylor’s eyebrows rose.  
“Yes.”  
“What’s he going to want in return?”  
Fenton eyed him expressionless for a moment before standing from the bed.  
“Don’t worry about that,” he insisted, and Taylor knew the discussion had come to an end, “get some rest. I’ll come back later to see what you remember then.”  
Taylor groaned inwardly as he left, getting back to sipping at the water.


	98. Chapter 98

Fenton was calculated in the questions he asked later in the day, but Taylor didn’t feel as though he had anything to hide. He gladly gave up anything he thought might help and in the end he was surprised to remember that the tattooist had been present at the time. If anyone knew who’d raped him, it would definitely be him. Taylor wanted to say it had been Lacey’s master, but he couldn’t be a hundred percent sure.  
The thought alone brought his nerves crawling back. He so easily considered ‘Lacey’ to be a slave and to have a master… was that really what Fenton was to him? It didn’t feel like he imagined it would, if it were in fact so. But he wasn’t all that sure what he would have expected it to be anymore either. Repressed? Check. Restrained? Check. Using his body for whatever he wanted to? Check.  
Maybe he really was a slave already.  
He tried to shake the thought off as he listened to Fenton preparing dinner upstairs. If he accepted the idea, it was akin to accepting his place there. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t let Fenton win. His mind had to stay strong, or he might as well lose all hope.  
It was just really, really hard.  
When Fenton returned with his dinner he evidently noticed his change of demeanour.  
“What’s wrong?” he asked as he set the plate of leftovers down, “you were feeling better.”  
“I am,” Taylor assured, “it’s nothing.”  
Fenton eyed him distrustfully for a moment before Taylor reached for the plate to prove he was ready to eat. Fenton watched him swallow the first mouthful before heading back upstairs.  
Taylor knew he’d have to be careful with how he handled it. Fenton hated him being depressed, and it made him upset when Taylor was angry. He had to at least try and continue the poker face as long as Fenton was home. Continue being an expressionless doll.  
He stood from the bed when he was halfway through his meal and took some pieces of meat with him to the other side of the stairs. He was a bit dizzy not having stood all day but he made it.   
“What are you doing?”  
Taylor almost fell over when Fenton startled him, looking up to see him watching from the doorway.  
“You should be eating.”  
“I am,” Taylor assured, holding up the meat he’d brought with him before continuing to shuffle.  
He made it to the mirror and made sure he swallowed what was in his mouth before actually looking. He didn’t even hear Fenton making his way down once he’d laid eyes on himself.  
He knew there were large welts from the whips. He’d seen one on his right thigh earlier and he could feel the ones on his back. He didn’t entirely expect to see the nail scratches down his side or dried blood on his left nipple. Most of the wounds had already begun to scab over and he could tell some kind of yellow ointment must have been put over them the night before.  
He jumped when Fenton put a hand on his shoulder, not realising he was there.  
“You shouldn’t be up,” Fenton tried to reason.  
“I had to see,” Taylor looked back to the mirror, running his fingers down one of the marks on his side.  
“They’re only temporary,” Fenton’s hand slid to the back of his neck to lead him away, “they shouldn’t last more than a week.”  
Taylor sighed before putting the rest of the meat he’d carried over into his mouth as Fenton led him back to the bed. He almost choked on it when he saw a familiar silver case sitting beside his plate.  
“Calm down,” Fenton raised a hand when Taylor had almost tripped, “I’m not going to sedate you.”  
Taylor wished he could believe him. He swallowed before feeling Fenton’s grip on his neck tighten and letting him pull him back to the bed.  
He took a seat on the edge and tried to keep his eyes away from the case as Fenton opened it.   
“It’s only a precaution,” Fenton assured.  
“You’re testing me,” Taylor realised, keeping his eyes down.  
“Correct.”  
“You think whoever raped me might have had an STD.”  
“It’s only a precaution,” Fenton repeated as he readied Taylor’s arm.  
He was quick to take the blood, as he had done many times before, and pack up the case. Taylor covered the wound himself this time as he again started to feel dizzy from the blood loss.  
“Do you?” Taylor dreaded the answer.  
“Do I have any STDs?” Fenton seemed surprised.  
Taylor just nodded.  
“No I do not,” he insisted, and Taylor immediately breathed easier.  
Still that didn’t change whether or not the person from last night did. He was just going to hope that Fenton kept track of whether or not Eric had any, as he hadn’t been tested since he’d first arrived. Eric had had his fun since then.  
“Eat,” Fenton insisted as he took the case and left.  
Taylor couldn’t stomach looking at his plate again just yet. He wanted to know the results right away. He remembered it took a few days for it to come back the first time, but on the one hand… at least Fenton wouldn’t touch him again until it was done.  
He fleetingly wondered what would have happened if the tests ever came back positive. What would Fenton do with him then? What if they’d come back positive the first time? Would he still be here now?  
He looked up at the door to make sure Fenton was gone before reaching for another piece of meat. He wondered how much food he actually had left over from the night before and how long it would last them. The smells were something he remembered quite clearly. They’d been richer than he’d remembered from home, but the last time he’d smelled anything like it had been Fenton’s Christmas dinner. It also made him wonder what he would do for Thanksgiving.  
After a while he realised he’d been staring across at the rack. With another glance upward to be sure Fenton wasn’t coming, he gingerly stood and began to shuffle back to that side of the room. Really, the rack was now the only thing beside the pulley and chair that was even within his reach anymore. He couldn’t quite make it to the trunk – not that he wanted to – and Fenton remained careful that no matter the length of the chain, he still couldn’t make it to the television sets. The key that sat atop the older set had collected months’ worth of dust now and Taylor was sure it hadn’t moved since the day he’d tried to escape.  
The fact that his actual escape attempts still amounted to _one_ didn’t bother him so much anymore. He considered himself to be biding his time. If he ever had a similar chance, he had to learn from his past mistakes. He wasn’t rushing into anything next time.   
Taylor picked up the bar gag and ran his fingers down the strap that led to the buckle. He lifted the prong onto his fingertip to test how sharp it was, finding it average. Average was all he wanted.  
“Stay there,” he looked back at the sound of Fenton’s voice, watching him make his way down.  
Taylor grimaced but took a step back as he came to the rack. But instead of using the gag as Taylor had feared, he replaced it, before picking up the hand cuffs.  
“If you’re well enough to be walking around I’m sure you won’t mind,” Fenton said as he fixed them.


	99. Chapter 99

Considering they’d just begun the weekend it ended up taking longer for Fenton to get the test results back. In all it was almost a week before Fenton finally divulged that they’d come back negative. At first Taylor was confused when Fenton didn’t go straight back to his ‘night activities’ – a term Eric had coined that Fenton seemed to catch onto – but he remembered back to when Eric had raped him and how uncomfortable that had made Fenton then. He figured it may have been the same thing affecting Fenton now. He didn’t like other people playing with his toy.  
Within another week and before Fenton touched him again, Taylor came down sick for the second time. He wasn’t sure what had set it off as he certainly wasn’t cold down there in July, but nonetheless Fenton once again was faced with the dilemma of keeping Taylor quiet during the day without covering his mouth. In the morning when he first discovered the problem his quick solution before going to work was to put Taylor in the trunk. Taylor didn’t have the energy to argue, and once inside found he barely had the energy to fear the cramped space either. He spent most of the day trying to sleep it off. Fenton returned home with medications and within the hour Eric had arrived.  
“It’s not going to work,” he insisted as he looked over the air conditioner – the main outlet for sound, Taylor knew.  
“There must be something we can do,” Fenton didn’t seem all that worried, opting to stay by the bed where Taylor sat beside a box of tissues.  
“You can block it,” Eric shrugged, “but you’ll restrict air flow and you don’t have a proper duct system down here to begin with. You’re either going to have to keep surveillance… or trust him.”  
Taylor wanted to insist he wasn’t going to try anything, but he didn’t want to open his mouth while Eric was in the room. He hadn’t taken a hit since the 4th of July and he didn’t want to start again now.  
It took him a moment to realise Fenton was staring at him as if deciding whether or not he would.  
“What would it take to set up surveillance?” he looked to Eric.  
“I have a guy who can get you the equipment, but he’ll expect payment. Upfront,” Eric pointed out, “it won’t be hard for us to set up a camera you can view from anywhere with internet connection.”  
Taylor’s head snapped up at that, and he immediately regretted it when it made him dizzy. But he couldn’t shake the thought that had come to him – that if footage of him was streamed anywhere over the internet, there was at least a vague chance that someone outside might see it.  
Suddenly he didn’t want to convince Fenton that he was trustworthy.  
“How much?” Fenton asked as Eric made his way back to them.  
“How long are you expecting him to be sick?” Eric was looking down at Taylor.  
“Last time it was a few days,” Fenton replied, “I cannot take that much time off work.”  
“Are you really worried? Nothing happened last time from what I remember.”  
“We don’t know that for sure,” Fenton insisted, “it could have been pure luck.”  
“I thought you said luck had nothing to do with it,” Eric mused, “you remember when we talked about this years ago, right? I kept telling you to soundproof this place but you didn’t listen. I knew then that you were going to have trouble if you ever tried…”  
“I didn’t anticipate his illnesses,” Fenton defended, “tell me whether or not I can afford the surveillance.”  
“This also wouldn’t be a problem if you’d trained him properly from the start.”  
Taylor could feel the tension rising and he felt like he’d sunk to an all new low. They actually had him feeling guilty for falling sick. They were actually making him feel guilty for not wanting to be there. For not making it easy for them to hold him _against his will_.  
“You can afford it if I get you a forward on your second payment,” Eric assured after a very tense moment of silence.  
“That money needs to go to the house,” Fenton insisted, “I can’t afford to offer less for it.”  
“The choice is yours,” Eric shrugged, “or you can wait another eight months.”  
“How busy are you over the next few days?” Fenton was looking for a way out.  
“I’m not your babysitter,” Eric was stern, “you’re the one who got yourself into this mess, and you need to deal with it. You’re not keeping him healthy.”  
Taylor also looked up at that. For once Eric seemed to be on his side, even by default. He had no idea how many times he’d had the same argument with Fenton.  
“How do you do it?” Fenton’s eyes narrowed, “how do you keep them from falling sick?”  
“I don’t,” Eric smirked as he turned to leave, “they get sick, but it passes. Life goes on. Anything worse? That’s what I have you for.”  
He made his way up the stairs as Fenton gave Taylor another stare. When Taylor avoided eye contact Fenton followed him out. Having closed the door behind him Taylor could hear them talking but couldn’t hear what they were saying.   
On the one hand, he really wanted the move. A new house meant new opportunities. Maybe a fresh start would even prod Fenton into allowing him a little more freedom.   
On the other, would streaming video be the thing to finally save him? There was no guarantee he’d be any better off in the new house. There was no guarantee someone other than Fenton would see the video, but once it was online it was out there at least… it would be as ‘out there’ as he’d ever been and he could probably ever hope for.  
He mulled over Fenton’s reaction to the argument with Eric. It was almost as if he’d had a stark reminder that keeping Taylor here were a chore, rather than a simple fetish game. It made him think back to when he’d first been taken again, and perhaps it was his illness spurring him on but when Fenton returned to the basement with soup much later Taylor felt the need to say something.  
“It wasn’t because I didn’t like you, you know,” he began cautiously, knowing it sounded odd with his blocked nose.  
“What wasn’t?” Fenton didn’t look at him as he set the soup in his lap.  
Taylor flinched as the heat from the bowl burnt his legs and shifted so they were around it instead.  
“Me, not wanting to be here,” Taylor tried to catch his eye, “I used to think the world of you. If Mom ever took me to another doctor, it just didn’t feel right. There was a reason I kept coming back. There was a reason I entrusted my own family to you.”  
He stopped to swallow when Fenton finally looked at him, and he felt himself blushing slightly.  
“The reason I didn’t want to be here wasn’t because of you,” he tried to reiterate, “it was because of me, and my not wanting to lose everything I’ve ever worked for.”  
“And now?” Taylor couldn’t tell if Fenton were actually interested or only humouring him, “you’re speaking in past tense.”  
Taylor diverted his eyes. He hadn’t planned this far ahead in the conversation.  
“I have to believe, if only for my own sanity, that you’re still a good person,” he was back to cautious, not sure what kind of territory he was venturing into, “I just think that maybe you need some kind of help, and I’m sorry that I can’t be the one to give it to you. Especially when you’ve helped me so much in the past.”  
He closed his eyes as Fenton put his hand on his head, tense in case it was a ploy.  
“Eat your soup,” he said, otherwise unfazed, “you’ll feel better tomorrow.”  
He left the basement without another word.


	100. Chapter 100

The next day Fenton left for work early, though he seemed to be in a better mood. Taylor was returned to the trunk as he hadn’t ultimately decided what to do the night before. However when Fenton finally made it home – on time – Eric was with him. Fenton unlocked the trunk to let Taylor out but aside from handing him a fresh bottle of water otherwise ignored him as the two men began to set up some basic wiring.  
Neither of them seemed worried that Taylor might intervene. It was founded.  
He took a seat on one edge of the bondage chair to both watch and stay out of their way. Fenton was setting up what looked like a basic CCTV camera in the opposite corner above the bookcases, standing on Taylor’s chair to do it. Eric held the wires out of the way as he set it in place before pulling them back to the staircase and looping them through a hooked nail they’d driven into the doorframe. The wires went directly from the camera to the door – with no slack – and wouldn’t use any power from the basement itself. Taylor knew Fenton was already worried about overheating the circuits down there and figured this was probably why, as opposed to simply keeping it out of Taylor’s reach.  
When Fenton was told to test it from somewhere upstairs Taylor recognised that a red light appeared when it was recording, as if it were a normal camcorder. When Fenton turned it off the light went off as well.   
“All done,” Eric dusted his hands as he in turn stepped down from the chair and moved it back, “I trust you’ll enjoy seeing him any hour of the day now.”  
Taylor’s eyes followed Eric to the staircase, still wary in case he changed his mind about leaving.  
“I’ll have to check in between appointments,” Fenton wasn’t sold, “but pass on my gratitude.”  
Eric left without another word and Fenton disappeared into the kitchen. Taylor didn’t bother moving from the chair. As expected, it only took a few minutes before the red light came on. Taylor stared into the lens at first with his hearing aimed upstairs, but heard nothing out of the ordinary. He was already wondering that if anyone outside did actually see the feed… would they even recognise him?  
When he finally moved back to the bed after dinner he could tell the lens was wide enough to cover his entire area. He decided a good way to pass the time over the coming week or so would be to watch and time the light to work out exactly when Fenton had his breaks.   
At first it was hard to gauge. The light seemed to come on sporadically throughout the day, and by the first weekend he’d almost given up. When the second week came however – by which time the medications Fenton gave him had well and truly kicked in and he was once again gagged for the daytime – he began to notice a pattern. His breaks came at different times on different days of the week, most likely depending on when he had appointments booked or free slots. Knowing that it was never a guarantee Fenton had his day fully booked Taylor knew he might never really know when the light might come on. Despite not really having anything to hide from Fenton, there were times – like using the bathroom – where Taylor valued the smallest privacy he’d been allowed. Sometimes, especially after an argument, he was just happy to know that Fenton wasn’t leering at him from a dark corner. Now he didn’t know when the older man would be watching and he quickly started to regret not pushing him to save the money for the house.  
Particularly when weeks went by and his other hope faded out. There was no sign of the authorities.  
By mid-August he was sure he had somewhat of a routine memorised and he tentatively began something he’d been planning since Eric had emptied the basement. One morning when he knew Fenton should have been busy for at least an hour or so he kept an ear toward CNN to keep track of the time and went to the rack to fetch the bar gag.  
He took it back to the bed and knelt down beside it. When he’d first come to Fenton there would have been no way he’d be able to fit under the bed. However, now with all the weight he’d lost, he’d found himself just barely able to slide under without getting himself stuck.  
He lay flat on his stomach and shifted himself under sideways before reaching back to pull the gag with him. When he found the mark he’d left in the floorboards just left of centre he readied the prong and dug it in.  
 _My name is Taylor Hanson and I am being held captive._  
He took the time to carve it carefully. He knew Fenton would never be able to fit under the bed himself but there was always a chance he might find the wooden shavings and wonder what was going on there. It wouldn’t be hard to use a mirror to see exactly what he was doing.  
Ever since learning they might be moving Taylor had been trying to think of a way to leave something behind. Some kind of mark to prove that he’d been there. There was again no guarantee that anyone who moved into the house would actually move the steel bedframe and ever see it, but there was always _just in case_. He’d rather have tried and for it to be futile than to have not tried at all.  
 _I have been here eight months and two weeks. My captors are James Fenton and his friend Eric. I have been raped, beaten and humiliated countless times and there is no end in sight. I have become a slave._  
He paused and stared at the word as soon as he finished it. He knew that it was true, but a small voice somewhere in the back of his head was still screaming that it was absurd. That this didn’t happen in real life. That maybe he was in some kind of really long coma and this was the nightmare his mind had chosen for him.  
He tried to shake it off but he could feel the lump forming in his throat. It was getting easier to block out his emotions, especially while Fenton was home and he had the distraction, but he wasn’t sure ignoring them entirely was the best idea. Maybe he had to cry once in a while just to remind himself that he was human.   
But doing it under the bed was probably not the best idea. He knew it would wear him out and he wouldn’t want to move. So instead he tried to focus and remember what else he’d been meaning to carve into the floorboards. He wanted to write a message to his family but at this stage if he were certain they would see it… what would he say? The situation here had changed so dramatically since his last try – at Christmas – and it was bound to have changed dramatically at home too. If a new homeowner were to find his message they would at least finally know he was alive, but what could he possibly say to them to encourage hope or positive thinking when he was lacking it so much himself? It was 50/50 on whether his message would even be seen, and the odds were much less that they’d ever actually find them if Fenton somehow planned to disappear with him.  
In that instant he considered scratching the whole thing out. Why give his family hope only to have it never realised?  
He sighed and let his chin hit the floorboards. He couldn’t decide what to do. He could almost hear Natalie’s voice in his head telling him how much she missed him, but that wasn’t…  
It wasn’t in his head.  
The moment he realised he sprang into action and pulled himself out from under the bed, garnering a few scratches in the process. Making it to his knees his eyes locked to the television screen.  
There she was.  
For the first time in eight months and two weeks, he could see his wife’s face.


	101. Chapter 101

“ _So that’s what we’re trying to do here…_ ”  
The story probably didn’t last more than a minute, but it felt as though time were standing still.   
Taylor desperately tried to memorise everything. The lines of her face, the shade of lipstick she wore, the colour of her hair in the sun… he was sad that he couldn’t see her eyes behind her sunglasses but he didn’t let it deter him. She was wearing a white blouse and the breeze was moving her fringe ever so slightly and the sun was bothering her because she put a hand to her forehead…  
She still wore her wedding ring.  
The fingers on Taylor’s right hand went to his own. Before it even touched, she was gone.  
He took a moment to catch his breath, not having even noticed that he’d stopped breathing. A glance upward told him the red light from the camera had come on at some point. He blanched a little but didn’t move. He didn’t actually remember crawling away from the bed and landing in the middle of the floor, but here he was all the same…  
He pulled his knees in to his chest and hugged his legs awkwardly as he closed his eyes. Trying to keep the vision behind them alive as long as he could. What had the story even been about? He hadn’t been listening. He’d been caught too off-guard. Was something wrong at home? Had something happened to her? She seemed to be okay on the video… did something happen to one of the kids? _Did they have a lead on him?_  
He grunted and squashed his face into his knees before pulling his head back. The red light had gone off.  
If the authorities had a lead on Fenton he knew they would have already broken down the door. It couldn’t have been that. Natalie had also seemed calm when she spoke, so it couldn’t have been the kids. Thinking back he was a little surprised at how calm she seemed, but then he hadn’t paid attention to if she’d looked tired or worried. He’d just wanted to stare at her as long as he could.  
He wondered if Fenton knew. He wondered if he were on his way home right now, like when he’d come home early when Taylor had been mentioned on the news before. He looked up at the camera again and tried to work out when the light would come back on if Fenton had stayed at work. He was having trouble concentrating on anything at all but he was able to remember what day it was and he could see the time on CNN. He should have had another ten minutes’ grace at least.  
He quickly crawled back to the bed to retrieve the gag from where he’d dropped it so he could return it to the rack before Fenton noticed it missing. Fenton didn’t arrive home within the half hour so Taylor assumed he wouldn’t be home early. In fact he ended up being a few minutes late, which was odd for the doctor in itself.  
Taylor rushed to get to the bed in time as he’d honestly completely forgotten that he had to be ready, falling to his knees in time for the basement door to open. He waited panting slightly as Fenton made his way downstairs before unbuckling his belt, and Taylor knew he wouldn’t get a word in until it was over with.   
Fenton was taking his time today and was in no rush to remove Taylor’s gag, but when he finally did before bothering to replace his pants Taylor immediately pulled himself up onto the edge of the bed.  
“What happened today?” he asked, barely containing himself.  
“What do you mean?” Fenton frowned, not even looking toward him.  
“Why was she on the news?” Taylor ducked a little to try and catch his eye, “what’s going on over there? Have they found something? Was it another call for information?”  
Fenton suddenly locked eyes with him and it made him stop. He only looked confused, and Taylor realised he had no idea what he was talking about.  
“Natalie,” he explained, “she was on CNN this morning. They haven’t replayed the story. Can we _please_ watch the local news tonight?”  
Fenton frowned at the revelation and looked toward the television. Taylor waited with bated breath for his decision and ended up rubbing his face to pacify himself.  
“Please?” he tried again when Fenton didn’t respond.  
“No,” he decided as he fastened his belt.  
“Why not?” Taylor’s brow furrowed, “what could it hurt? I just want to see her! I want to know what’s going on!”  
“No,” Fenton repeated, sterner this time, “you’re getting distracted. I won’t have it.”  
“Distracted from what?” Taylor frowned incredulously, “from you?! All I’m asking is for you to change the channel for one night!”  
Fenton suddenly raised his hand as if to hit him and Taylor ducked backward. He hadn’t expected it to be so hard of a fight, but he knew he was losing. He waited in case Fenton was actually going to make the effort to hit him and let go of the breath he’d been holding when Fenton headed for the stairs instead.  
If he couldn’t find out why Natalie had been on the news he knew it was going to drive him crazy. He couldn’t help but think it may be the straw to break the camel’s back.  
He listened to Fenton in the kitchen upstairs through the open door, trying to hear if he had the television upstairs on. He couldn’t hear it. He did hear Fenton on the phone sometime later but he was talking in a low tone and Taylor couldn’t make out what he was saying.  
He ran his fingers through his hair and left his head in his hands. He didn’t know what to do. He knew any argument with Fenton would just anger him more and he risked him calling Eric. But he _needed_ to know. If there was one thing he was going to ask Fenton for the rest of the year and beyond, this would be it.  
He was still there when Fenton returned with dinner but he hadn’t yet worked out what to say. By the time Fenton returned for his plate he was ready.  
“Fenton, please,” he began in a soft tone, just enough to catch the doctor’s attention, “I just need to know. So if there’s anything that I can do for you, or say to you, to get you to change the channel? I’ll do it, I swear. But this is a one night only offer.”  
Fenton stared down at him, almost frowning but not quite. Taylor knew he was probably thinking he could get Taylor to do whatever he wanted regardless, but he hoped he didn’t have to point out that this would technically be with consent. And though he hadn’t said it aloud he was going over every possibility of what Fenton might want and still convincing himself it would be worth it.  
“I appreciate the offer…” Fenton didn’t even seem to consider it and Taylor’s face immediately fell, “but the local news program is already over for tonight.”  
Taylor’s eyes shot to the television. He’d spent so long trying to work up the nerve to actually make the offer that he hadn’t paid attention to the time. If he’d said something when Fenton had first brought the food down, he might have just made it in time.  
He bit his lip and covered his face as he tried desperately not to lose it in front of Fenton. It was a mild relief when Fenton simply took the plate and left instead of waiting to say more. Once he was gone for sure Taylor pulled himself back onto the bed and just lay down ready to try and sleep. He wasn’t interested in any small talk with Fenton tonight, and Fenton must have taken the hint. He didn’t come back down, not even to say goodnight, and the light went off on schedule.  
By which time his pillow was well and truly salted.


	102. Chapter 102

When Fenton came down the following morning Taylor hadn’t moved at all, even in his sleep. His eyes were open and staring at the wall under the staircase but he was trying to keep his mind blank. He wanted to forget the day before had even happened. It would be a lot easier to handle that way.  
He heard Fenton set a plate on the chair before once again telling him sternly to ‘eat’ before leaving again to get ready for work. Taylor couldn’t pay attention, he was too busy trying to keep his mind clear. He didn’t even feel hungry for the first in a long time.  
He heard Fenton’s footsteps returning down the stairs about a half hour later and knew he must have been ready to leave. It was time to be gagged for the day, and he hadn’t eaten. He knew he was going to be in trouble for it so forced himself to sit up slightly for the first time all night.  
Fenton was standing by the bed in silence.   
He was holding a newspaper.  
Taylor frowned. He hadn’t seen one of those down here before. He vaguely wondered if Fenton were just going to hit him with it, kind of like swatting a fly.   
Once Fenton knew he had Taylor’s attention, he strategically folded the paper and threw it onto the bed in front of him. Taylor’s eyes went to it as Fenton went to fetch the muzzle from the rack.  
The first thing Taylor saw on the page was a photo. It looked to be in either a field or maybe just the side of a road somewhere, and it showed Natalie in her white blouse about mid-distance away.  
By her side were Ezra and River.  
Taylor gulped and sat up properly as he unfolded the paper a little. This had to have been what had been on the news the day before. As he quickly skimmed over the words – unsure of how long Fenton would let him have it – he could already feel his eyes brimming with tears yet again.  
When Fenton returned he automatically reached for the paper and Taylor flinched back out of his reach.  
“It’s upsetting you,” Taylor could hear the frown in his voice, not willing to pull his eyes from the story long enough to see it for himself.  
“No! No…” he shook his head, “it isn’t, I promise. This is…”  
He took a deep breath trying to find the right word.  
“This is amazing,” he finally looked up.  
The look on Fenton’s face was odd, and Taylor’s heart leapt when he realised he couldn’t read it. He knew Fenton must have had a hard time deciding whether or not to even show this to him and maybe he was regretting it now…  
“I haven’t seen you do that before,” Fenton said suddenly, catching Taylor off guard.  
“Do what?” he was suddenly more worried.  
“Smile.”  
Taylor blanched a little, unsure if it were a good thing or a bad thing. He hadn’t even realised he’d been doing it.   
“I’m… sorry?” he guessed at an appropriate response.  
“Don’t be,” Fenton took a seat on the bed nearby, “I admit I wasn’t sure I’d ever see it again.”  
“I wasn’t sure I ever would again,” Taylor admitted, his eyes going back to the paper.  
“Was this unexpected?” Fenton was uncharacteristically provoking conversation, and at a time Taylor knew he really had to be leaving.  
“Very unexpected,” Taylor nodded, keeping his eyes to the photo, “when I… it was only an idea. I didn’t have time to do anything with it. Nat’s taken an idea I had with some friends and she’s… she’s made it come to life.”  
He rubbed his chin nervously, already wishing he knew more than the paper told.  
“I couldn’t be more proud of her right now if I tried,” he couldn’t hold back a short chuckle.  
“It doesn’t mention that it’s in your memory,” Fenton had obviously read it through already.  
“Not everything has to be,” Taylor pointed out, “this proves that they’re moving on, that they’re perfectly _capable_ of moving on, and…”  
He chewed his lip again as he struggled with wording.  
“And it shows me that they’re really okay. That I don’t just have to go by your word.”  
“Perhaps the media have their own spin on a larger story?” Fenton suggested.  
“What do you mean?” Taylor caught on right away, “how else could they spin this?”  
“I’m not saying they’re spinning it at all,” Fenton corrected, “however the story does not tell you exactly how they are coping at all.”  
“I know they have to be going through hell,” Taylor assured, his inner voice reminding him how odd it was that Fenton was even allowing him to talk about his family, “but this is proof to me that it’s going to work out in the end. Even if they never get over what happened to me they are going to be able to get on with their lives, and right now that’s all that matters to me.”  
Fenton considered his words, before standing from the bed. Taylor knew the conversation was now over and he took the gag when Fenton handed it to him. Fenton waited patiently as he put it over his head.  
“I’d like to see you smile more,” he said as Taylor fastened the strapping himself, “but if you wish to know the truth about how your family is handling your absence, I will tell you when I get home.”  
Taylor looked up at that, again wondering if that would be a good or bad thing. Fenton didn’t give him a chance to even try and reply before locking the gag himself and taking Taylor’s uneaten breakfast back upstairs with him.  
Taylor spent the day going over the article piece by piece, and hoping Fenton would leave it with him so he could read other parts of the paper instead of the encyclopaedias he missed. The Food On The Move initiative was something he’d barely spoken with Natalie about before he’d left, but he figured she must have collaborated with the others in their circle he’d confided it to in order to give the program life. At the very least it was giving her something to focus her time on other than the case.  
At least he hoped she was still focusing on the case and hadn’t completely given up yet…  
He stared at the photo for hours as if to gauge whether or not it was actually real. Ezra had grown a lot taller already, and so had River. There was no mistaking who they were but he still felt as though his eyes were playing tricks on him.  
When Fenton came home – again a little later than usual – he wasn’t empty handed. Carrying things Taylor had thought he’d never see again, he descended the stairs once again with Taylor’s breakfast and set it aside before handing Taylor his necklaces and unlocking the gag.  
“Thank you,” Taylor began to wonder if he was being pranked with all the good news that day.  
Fenton nodded before replacing the gag to the rack. Taylor slipped his necklaces over his head and instantly began looping his fingers through them nostalgically.   
“You said you’d tell me how my family were doing?” he reminded him without looking up.  
“I changed my mind.”  
“You what?” Taylor frowned, taken aback.  
“I changed my mind,” Fenton repeated, “it will do you no good, and you are happy for now.”  
Taylor couldn’t argue with that, though knew now he’d be worried about what Fenton might not be telling him. Instead he worked to convince himself Fenton was making a mountain out of a molehill.


	103. Chapter 103

It didn’t work.  
As time went by Taylor was only becoming more and more worried. Fenton took the newspaper back the first night he’d given it to him and Taylor never saw it again.  
He managed to contain himself for a few days and over the following weekend, but when a week went by without any further word he gave in and asked again. Fenton refused to budge.  
Fenton lasted three days of annoyance when Taylor would ask about nothing else before deciding he’d had enough.  
“What are you willing to do for me?” he finally asked.  
“What do you mean?” Taylor’s eyes darted, wondering if he were actually getting somewhere.  
“When you were desperate to know why Natalie had been on the news…” Fenton reminded him, “you assured me you would do anything I could ask for in return. I wonder if that offer passes to this instance.”  
Taylor had to stop and think about that. He wasn’t sure he was quite _that_ desperate, and surely if there really were anything wrong with the kids not mentioned in the newspaper article they would have at least mentioned them…  
“What are you thinking?” he made sure to look down when he frowned so Fenton wasn’t hurt by it.  
Instead of answering him, Fenton went to the lockers. Taylor closed his eyes as he heard him unlocking one of them remembering the last time this sort of thing had happened he’d been blindfolded and tricked into the trunk.  
He opened them again when Fenton pulled one of the bags out and dumped it on the end of the bed. He stared at Taylor as he unzipped it and pulled out the contents, and Taylor avoided eye contact. He didn’t ask what Fenton wanted because he was sure he’d soon find out.  
Fenton carefully lay the items out on the bed one by one and it took up more room than Taylor expected. He was looking over the leather and buckles but couldn’t really tell what any of them were. As far as he was concerned they could have been almost anything.  
When Fenton was done he took a step back.  
“Choose one, or more,” he offered, “spend an hour inside and I’ll tell you what you want to know.”  
“Inside?” Taylor’s brow furrowed and he pulled his arms in to his lap.  
“Yes,” Fenton indicated, “go on. Have a look.”  
Taylor gulped slightly, feeling very much like he was walking into the spider’s web. He leant over to the nearest mound of leather and pulled it back toward him to inspect.  
At first he was confused by the layers and laces but he soon realised it must have been the hood Fenton had warned him about on day one. Resisting the urge to throw it across the room he carefully put it back down having barely really looked at it.  
Fenton took a step back so that Taylor could stand and walk around to see what else he had. The second item he came across was a lot larger but the material was thinner. He ended up having to unfold it and at first he thought it was some kind of leather sack. When he found the straps down the length he soon recognised it as a bondage sleep sack. He awkwardly moved on.  
“Just one hour, in any one of these?” he looked up to check with Fenton, praying the next thing wouldn’t be too bad.  
Fenton nodded, still staring at him. Taylor nervously bit into his thumbnail as he inspected the third item. It looked to be a shorter version of the sack, and when he saw the arms in it realised it was a black straightjacket. Looking back across at the sleep sack and the hood he already knew he’d found the lesser of three evils and cautiously began to eye the fourth.  
The fourth wasn’t leather but something lighter. When he unfolded it, it turned out to be about the size of the sleep sack. He figured it may just have been a different style.  
“What’s the difference in these two?” he indicated the other, though he could already tell this one didn’t have straps.  
“That one was cheaper,” Fenton admitted placidly, “and seemed to be a lot less secure. I upgraded as soon as I could afford to.”  
“You tested it?” Taylor looked up.  
“No.”  
Taylor paused, but folded it again how Fenton had left it. He stepped back to the straightjacket and stared at it for a moment. He knew it would be no different to perhaps the arm binder or simply having his hands cuffed behind him, but he still had a bad feeling about it.  
Yet, the bad feeling amplified if he looked at any of the other three.  
“Taylor?”  
“This one,” he pointed before he could change his mind.  
Fenton came forward and began to pack the rest away as Taylor stood back to wait anxiously. He kept his eye on the jacket as Fenton set the bag down in front of the locker it came from and came back to unlock Taylor’s handcuffs.  
“Just one hour?” Taylor repeated to make sure.  
“Just one hour.”  
“And there’s nothing you’re not telling me?” Taylor tried to catch his eye as the cuffs came off, “it’s just a jacket, right? I don’t have to do anything while wearing it?”  
“I doubt that you will be able to,” Fenton assured, returning the cuffs to the rack.  
Taylor rubbed his wrists and stretched his arms as he waited, trying to get his shoulders used to the extra movement again. The cuffs hadn’t come off for weeks now.  
Fenton readied the jacket before holding it up expectantly. Taylor stepped in before he could think too much about it. Fenton stepped behind him to fasten the buckles at the back, and Taylor could already tell he was going to make it tight. He vaguely wondered if he even would have fit into it when he’d first arrived.  
Once the back straps were done Fenton secured his right arm before his left. Taylor found he had to keep his head up because there was some kind of stiff collar at the neck, which Fenton also fastened once he was done with the arms.  
“Spread your legs,” he ordered.  
Taylor looked down with his eyes wondering how far Fenton expected them to go while he was still wearing the shackles, but it was far enough for Fenton to retrieve the two crotch straps and fasten those in place too. With that done he walked around to Taylor’s front, and Taylor had to turn his head away when he saw the doctor’s erection.  
Fenton ignored the move and fastened a smaller strap around his arms to hold them together at the front. Once the jacket was entirely secure he slid his fingers under the collar and retrieved the necklaces.  
“One hour,” he assured again as he let them fall, “lay down. On your stomach.”  
Taylor looked back to the bed and shifted over to do as he was told. He expected Fenton to go ahead and rape him and was surprised when he didn’t. Once he fell hard onto his arms Fenton fastened the chain of the shackles to the back of the jacket. Taylor was effectively in a jacketed hogtie.  
He saw Fenton check his watch before going to retrieve Taylor’s chair. He took up a seat beside the bed, and when Taylor realised he was just going to watch him for the hour his head hit the sheets.


	104. Chapter 104

Taylor ended up closing his eyes for the majority of the hour and tried to somehow drown out the sounds Fenton was making by focusing on CNN and trying to keep his legs up so his ankles wouldn’t get red bands from the cuffs. He was sure the hour had long passed when he heard Fenton finally stand from the chair with a groan and start to clean up. He dared to open his eyes when he thought he’d surely be mostly done, and saw Fenton naked from the waist down moving the chair back to where he’d gotten it from.  
“Can you tell me now?” Taylor grunted, having found it harder and harder to breathe as time went on with the pressure of his arms on his chest.  
“Someone’s here.”  
“What?”  
Taylor saw him look up to the basement door, but Taylor couldn’t see it from where he was. Seeming to ignore what he’d just said Fenton came to the bed and unhooked the shackles.  
“Am I interrupting something?” Eric’s voice came from the door.  
“No,” Fenton assured as he began to unbuckle the jacket without rush.  
“Good,” Eric didn’t seem at all bothered by Fenton’s state of dress, “we need to talk.”  
“Give me a moment,” Fenton insisted, releasing the buckles that held Taylor’s arms firm which let him push himself up enough to see Eric leaning over the railing.  
“I believe congratulations are in order,” Eric finally made Fenton look up with that, “if you know what I mean.”  
Fenton stared upward for a long moment and it made Taylor feel incredibly awkward. What would Eric congratulate him for? Couldn’t Fenton just hurry and free him from the jacket already?  
When Fenton looked down again Taylor wasn’t sure whether he was actually going to free him or not. He got his answer when Fenton finished the strap he’d been working on before heading straight for the staircase.  
Eric watched Taylor with an amused glint in his eyes until Fenton reached him and they both disappeared back into the house. Taylor struggled onto his side before using his legs to push himself up.  
“It’s been confirmed?” he faintly heard Fenton’s voice.  
“It has,” Eric returned, “you’re twenty grand richer. You need to call your sister, because you’re getting the house.”  
“And the rest?”  
“Another three months until we determine the sex, then you’ll get the rest.”  
Taylor frowned, unsure he’d heard what he’d heard. Why would they be talking about a pregnancy? Was Fenton paid to be a surrogate father? He thought Fenton would have to be too old to…  
Then he froze. His face lost colour and his breathing shallowed.  
He’d been drugged at Fenton’s party. Did something happen with Lacey?  
No, Fenton would have told him. Fenton hadn’t known he’d been drugged.  
He tried to take a deep breath and wait for Fenton to come back. He’d clear it up for him for sure.  
Eric wasn’t there long – Taylor presumed only to drop off Fenton’s money – before leaving. Fenton spent a horrid ten minutes or so fussing around upstairs before finally coming down again. Taylor waited while he finally finished unbuckling the jacket before saying anything.  
“What was that about?” he asked as Fenton folded the jacket neatly.  
“Nothing to worry yourself with,” he insisted before putting it away.  
Taylor took a seat on the bed, glancing idly up at the door.  
“I heard you two,” he admitted, taking note that it made Fenton pause, “how did you make twenty thousand dollars overnight?”  
Fenton considered the question, but put the jacket and the bag away all the same. Once the locker was secure again he turned back to Taylor.  
“It was money owed to me from our party.”  
Taylor instantly felt sick. He could only think of one explanation.  
“Is it Lacey?” his brow furrowed, looking Fenton dead in the eye, “did I get Lacey pregnant?”  
The look on Fenton’s face gave him his answer. His sickly feeling turned to nausea and he had to hold his throat.  
“It’s nothing for you to worry about,” Fenton recognised the distress and came back to the bed.  
He took a seat beside Taylor and lifted his hand to his head.  
“It’s all being taken care of.”  
Taylor cringed at that and stood to get out of Fenton’s reach. He stepped over to the stair rail and took hold of it for support.  
“Did you organise it?” his voice broke, but he had to ask.  
“Yes,” Fenton admitted.  
“Did you know they would drug me?!”  
Fenton sighed, possibly already annoyed with Taylor’s reaction.  
“No,” he insisted, “I saw the opportunity and thought it would be easier for you…”  
“Easier,” Taylor croaked out, shaking his head.  
He looked back up to the door, once again seeing it as a gateway to hell.   
“We needed the money,” Fenton stood from the bed, “I saw an offer I couldn’t refuse, with very little work needed from our end. I thought you wanted to move also.”  
“This isn’t about the money,” Taylor looked over his shoulder incredulously, “what are they going to do to that baby?!”  
“That’s none of our concern,” Fenton spoke placidly.  
“My child is none of your concern all of a sudden?”  
“It will not be ‘your child’,” Fenton made his way over, “you were merely a sperm donor. You will have nothing more to do with those people and we have from them what we needed.”  
“Don’t touch me,” Taylor flinched back as Fenton got closer.  
He moved down the side of the bed to the headboard, glad when Fenton didn’t follow.  
“I apologise if it upsets you,” Fenton didn’t sound at all sincere, “but I had hoped you wouldn’t have had to know.”  
“That just makes it worse,” Taylor shook his head, once again holding his throat.  
He turned his back to the bed and took a seat on the edge trying to hold in as much as he could.   
What on Earth was Natalie going to think?  
Of course, Natalie was never going to find out. There was no way they were going to let this get out. There was no way they were going to let _him_ get this out. To them this was just another way they could use him for their benefit. In this case, financial.   
Neither of them gave a damn about bringing a new life into this world. Neither of them cared that the child might never see the light of day. This might as well be commonplace for them.  
“You should really thank me,” Fenton took a step closer, though still keeping his distance.  
Taylor couldn’t keep the scowl from his face, wondering how Fenton could possibly think that.  
“If they had known young Willa’s relation to you, they would not have let me take her home.”


	105. Chapter 105

Taylor didn’t sleep that night. He tossed and turned but he couldn’t shut his mind off. He couldn’t stop thinking about what Fenton – what he – had done, and how Fenton hadn’t even planned to tell him about it.  
He felt like a failure. More than he ever had before. They were talking about a _life_ , and whether or not Fenton thought so Taylor knew he held a great deal of responsibility for it.   
But as usual he was in chains. Both figuratively and literally. There didn’t seem to be a single thing he could do about it.  
Yet.  
What Fenton had said about Willa had also put him on edge. It made him wonder exactly who had been taking care of her while Fenton had gone back to work. If it were the same people who’d commissioned a newborn child like a business deal… had they done anything to Willa while she’d been there? Had they assaulted her?  
The very thought made him nauseas and he remained surprised that he hadn’t thrown up all night. By the early hours of the morning his stomach had started cramping and he was surprised he wasn’t waking Fenton with the groans it caused. But by the time Fenton finally opened the basement door they’d seemed to calm down somewhat.  
Taylor had been staring at the ceiling until the light came on and he had to look away. He diverted his gaze to the wall at his left and just waited for Fenton to do his usual morning survey and leave again. Fenton reappeared on schedule a half hour later with his breakfast, which he set on the chair as usual before stopping to look over his charge.  
“Are you alright?”  
The question didn’t sound any more or less genuine than it had any other time he’d asked it. Taylor was sure it was only ever for his own peace of mind that he ever did.  
“Taylor?”  
“You’re not just going to order me to eat and go away?” he didn’t bother looking up.  
Fenton hesitated before stepping over to Taylor’s side of the bed. Taylor could see him moving into his periphery but he kept his eyes to the wall.  
“Are you going to?” he asked blandly.  
Taylor knew that he needed to. His stomach wasn’t going to feel any better if he didn’t. He wasn’t sure he could spend all day feeling like he had all night.  
“I will,” he promised.  
“Good,” Fenton wasn’t moving.  
Taylor bit his lip when he realised, trying to think of something that would make him leave.   
“Taylor?” he stepped a little closer, “look at me.”  
“I can’t right now,” his voice broke, letting out what he’d been trying to hold in since the light came on, “just go. Please.”  
There was an awkward moment of silence before Taylor felt a sudden tug on the ankle chain. He hissed through his teeth and covered his eyes with his hands to stop himself looking up. He knew it was a blatant reminder of who was in charge here.  
“Behave,” was all Fenton said, before he did finally leave.  
Taylor took a few deep breaths to try and pull himself together before he managed to sit himself up. He looked over at where his toast sat, finding the very sight of it wasn’t helping his gut at all. But he knew he had to eat. So he grudgingly pulled himself to his feet and went to fetch the plate.  
Just the sight of Fenton had brought back all of the anguish he’d felt the night before. All the pain, all the betrayal, all the hatred for his situation. He felt as though he’d done so well to bottle everything up over the past almost-nine months but every now and then something just had to bring it all crashing down around him. It didn’t matter how hard he seemed to work at it, nothing was ever going to change. He was stuck on this endless rollercoaster.  
He felt his hands starting to shake as he began to pace the room while he ate. It had happened so many times before but this instance really took the cake. Fenton hadn’t just sold Taylor’s body, he’d sold an unborn soul. A soul that wasn’t his to sell.  
Taylor grunted and dropped the plate onto the bed, having to use it to hold himself up all of a sudden. He couldn’t pray any harder. He felt like everyone including God had abandoned him, and maybe that was fair. He’d long been convincing himself of the idea that maybe he deserved what he was getting. He’d had a great life – maybe too great – and the time had come to pay the toll.  
But to make a child pay for him too?  
He couldn’t stop his mind conjuring up evil thoughts of what they could possibly have planned for the child. Constantly there were random stories on the news of a child who’d been terribly abused in all sorts of ways by parents, friends or strangers. He knew this child would simply become another statistic, just like him. Only this one wouldn’t make the news. If they took it too far they’d just bury the body in the backyard and maybe even try again.  
“Oh God,” he couldn’t help but choke aloud, falling to his knees at the end of the bed.  
They could use him to ruin countless lives and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it.  
In that instant more than any other, he wanted to die.  
But even death was going to take more work than he had ability. The stair rails were too weak to hang himself from. Fenton made sure he didn’t have access to anything that would leave a cut. He couldn’t make it far enough up the stairs to even fall hard enough to break bones. He’d been over all the possibilities so many times and hadn’t come up with a single way that would guarantee his death.  
Especially not with a doctor right upstairs.  
He sat back onto his legs, hearing the familiar sound of the chains shift beneath him as he did.   
He couldn’t do this anymore. He couldn’t play Fenton’s game. Whatever’s Fenton’s endgame was for him, he wanted it to end now.   
He could feel the adrenaline starting to pump through him. He knew that if he outright attacked Fenton, Eric would be on speed dial. If he managed to hurt Fenton enough that he couldn’t get to a phone in time, Eric would be the first one to find him anyhow. Eric was definitely going to kill him for it.  
Maybe all he had to do was provoke Eric into finally doing what he’d often threatened.  
But then, if Taylor allowed himself to die… no one would ever even know this baby existed. They would get away with everything. His death would stop any future breeding but it wasn’t going to help this child.  
It was probably already too late. Even if he managed to get the word out somehow there was no way for him to identify either Lacey or her master. He had no idea who they were or where they came from. They could have been from out of state, and he couldn’t remember the master’s accent well enough to pinpoint a possibility. Yet again he was conscious of his chains.  
In a burst of adrenaline he pushed himself up from the bed and grabbed the chair, hurling it across the room with an angry yell. The chair flew across the staircase and hit the edge of the mirror.  
The left side of the mirror shattered quite spectacularly.


	106. Chapter 106

Taylor froze when he realised what he’d done. Time seemed to stand still long enough for his emotional slate to wipe clean and be replaced with nothing but fear.  
The sound of Fenton’s footsteps overhead brought him crashing back to reality, and he moved as fast as he could to get across to the mirror. There were large shards all over the floor where he would often sit, and he quickly knelt down to try and clean them up.  
“Get away from there!”  
Taylor almost jumped out of his skin, and not just from Fenton’s sudden appearance in the doorway. Taylor hadn’t heard that tone of voice in a long time.  
“I’m sorry!” his brow furrowed as he picked up a few more shards.  
“Get _away_!”  
Taylor flinched back as Fenton’s voice rose. He was already halfway down the stairs. When he made it to the floor he went straight to the rack and picked up the heavy whip.  
“Whoa!” Taylor’s eyes widened and he instantly dropped the glass he’d collected.  
He stumbled to his feet and backed over to the staircase as Fenton advanced. Fenton waited until he was backed against the wall before even looking at what he’d done.  
“I’m sorry,” Taylor repeated with a frown, “I didn’t mean for it to happen! I was just trying to-“  
“Be quiet,” Fenton scorned, still looking over the damage from where he stood.  
Eyeing the whip in Fenton’s hand and how white his hand had gone, Taylor knew he was ready to use it. Fenton never had before but Taylor could already tell he knew how to if he so wanted.  
Fenton’s silence was unnerving to say the least. Taylor couldn’t tell if he was angry, upset or otherwise. When his thumb began to massage the leather on the handle Taylor expected him to just turn on him then and there.  
“Stay there,” Taylor jumped when he finally spoke, before turning back to the rack.  
He grabbed the handcuffs and threw them to Taylor before taking a length of chain and two padlocks. Taylor caught the cuffs awkwardly.  
“What are you-?”  
“Be quiet,” Fenton reinforced, annoyed at having to say it twice, “put them on. Behind your back.”  
Taylor winced, wondering what he was in for. But he obeyed. If he could somehow pacify Fenton in time maybe he wouldn’t call Eric about this one…  
Fenton wouldn’t come near him until the cuffs were locked, and when he did he pushed Taylor’s chest into the stair rails. Taylor grunted at the sudden knock before hearing the whip drop to the floor and the chains rattle as they went over his head.  
“What are you doing?!” he tried to push back when he realised the chain was going around his neck.  
Fenton’s only answer was to push him against the stairs harder. The chain wasn’t tight enough to choke but he’d made two rounds before securing them with a padlock. The extra length was then locked around the wooden railing.  
“Stay here,” Fenton ordered, bending to retrieve the whip before looking over the damage again.  
Taylor looked over his shoulder to where he stood, flinching back again when Fenton stepped past to head up the stairs.  
He gulped when he actually had a moment to take in how Fenton had left him. If his legs gave out at any point he would surely hang. The other alternative being that he destroyed the bottom half of the stair rail and got himself in even more trouble.  
He’d just broken a mirror. Perhaps this was his introduction to seven years bad luck.  
He looked back at it, for the first time properly looking at the damage. The top corner where the chair had hit looked like the shattering from a car window, growing in a wider circle as it made its way down. The actual damage ran about the length of his arm with two larger cracks running one downward and one to the right. If Fenton was going to fix it, he’d have to replace the entire top half.  
There was no way he was going to be able to afford it. Not without selling Taylor again.  
He leant back against the stairwell to take a few deep breaths and try not to panic. He didn’t know what was going to happen, he just knew he was going to have to face it just like anything else.  
Fenton was on the phone upstairs. Just by the tone of voice he could tell it was to Eric. There was an argument that took some time but Fenton seemed to come out on top.  
Taylor knew Fenton was going to be late for work because of this. He couldn’t remember him ever being late before.  
When the call ended Fenton returned to the basement. Taylor waited until he made it to the floor and headed straight for the rack.  
“Fenton I’m sorry,” he tried again, more sincere this time, “I didn’t mean to break anything, and it looks really expensive but… we’re moving anyway, right? You’d want to get something new?”  
He gulped a little when Fenton came to stand in front of him and stare him down. He was well aware the muzzle was in his hand.  
“What can I say?” Taylor asked desperately, already feeling another lump in his throat, “ _please_ don’t let him hurt me.”  
Without a word, Fenton readied the gag. Taylor cringed and tried to stop himself from breaking down as Fenton slipped it over his head and locked it as per usual. Taylor avoided looking him in the eye even though he knew he was still staring, waiting until he’d disappeared into the house again before letting his tears of fear go.  
He didn’t know why he was even crying. This was practically another day at the office.  
As he listened, Fenton rushed around upstairs before leaving the house altogether. The car even sounded in a rush to leave. Realising Fenton hadn’t planned to release him from the chain around his neck, he began to panic for a very different reason.  
With the degradation his body had gone through over his time being here, he knew there was no way he’d be strong enough to stand all day. For once he actually began to hope Eric was coming.  
He had his answer within a half hour. He could hear the front door open and close without a rush, and Eric’s familiar footfalls heading for the basement. His breathing began to heavy as the basement door opened, but Eric took his time to stop at the top and survey the room.  
“Hm. That’s a shame,” he sighed, “and it was such a pain in the ass to get down here too.”  
He began to descend the stairs, Taylor flinching when he kicked at the chain. When he got to the bottom Taylor watched him take a closer look at the damage before realising he had the keys in his hand. He had a small black bag in the other.  
“Oh well. I have my own work to do today so let’s get this started,” he suddenly turned on Taylor.  
Taylor had nowhere to go, but was slightly relieved when Eric removed the chain from the stair. Only he then used it like a leash to drag Taylor back to the bed where he was forced down onto his side. Eric unlocked the handcuffs before opening the black bag to pull out his own leather ones.  
“Don’t move. Let’s get this over with,” and Taylor didn’t, letting him fasten the cuffs and in turn chain them off to the bed poles before his right ankle suffered the same fate.  
It wasn’t until Eric pulled the electrodes from the bag that Taylor realised what he was doing. He couldn’t object verbally or struggle hard enough to prevent Eric affixing them to his inner thighs.  
“Random intervals, all day long,” Eric mused, “try to get some sleep before I get back, won’t you?”


	107. Chapter 107

Taylor was already struggling to catch his breath. Eric knew how much he hated the electrodes, and where he’d put them seemed to hurt second to only his genitals. After the fifth time they went off once Eric had left Taylor began to wonder if the setting was at all high enough to affect his heart.  
They didn’t seem to think so. He was already praying Eric wouldn’t take as long as it sounded like he would – possibly returning mid-afternoon – regardless of what punishment he might have had in store. He actually began to think he’d prefer the closet to the constant but inconsistent jolts.  
He tried timing them against CNN to see if there was any kind of pattern, but Eric hadn’t lied when he’d specifically said ‘random’. Taylor didn’t know when the next hit was coming and because it kept him on edge he started to feel sick from it very quickly.   
His next worry was that he might vomit. With the muzzle on he knew his chances of not choking on it would be slim to none. He was just weighing up exactly how horrible a way that would be to go – and hey, countless musicians had gone that way – when he thought he heard the front door opening again.  
He tried to slow his breathing enough so that he could hear whose footsteps were coming (though he knew it had to be Eric), at the same time trying unsuccessfully to use his arms to rub stinging sweat from his eyes. He wasn’t sure if it was because he couldn’t concentrate but he couldn’t hear any at all.  
Then the bolt on the basement door was pulled back. Worried now but still holding the vain hope that he might be able to cry for help from a burglar or the like, he tried to push himself up a little before the electrodes made sure he collapsed back again. He was sure his fingernails drew blood from the palm of his right hand this time and he closed his eyes as he tried to catch his breath, momentarily forgetting what was going on upstairs. When he remembered his eyes shot open and looked up to the railing.  
What he saw made him jump. Despite Eric having turned the light off after telling Taylor to get some sleep, he could see from the light of the doorway exactly who stood above him.  
The black figure was back.  
She stared down at him almost as long as he stared back at her. Now that he could see her a lot clearer he could definitively make out the contours of her body beneath the cat suit. She was thinner than Natalie, but with a much fuller chest.  
Then the electrodes struck again, a faster succession than usual. Surprised at the pain while he’d been distracted he couldn’t help but cry out as his eyes squeezed shut, and when he opened them again the basement light had been turned on. When he looked to the staircase the figure was gone, but then he saw movement from the corner of his eye.  
He jumped at least a few inches when he realised she now stood at the foot of the bed. He knew she would have had time to get there, but her seeming disappearance and reappearance while he’d been distracted didn’t help him in his quest to determine whether she was only a nightmare or not. Standing in front of him she seemed as real as he did, but he’d never before been entirely sure that he’d really seen what he’d seen.  
He was sure now. This time she wasn’t just a shadow moving about in the dark. She was a woman, about Fenton’s height, in a tight latex cat suit with only her eyes showing. He couldn’t even make out the colour of her eyebrows, but at this short distance he could see that her eyes were green.  
Then she stepped closer. He jumped again when she moved, taking too long just to look her over that he hadn’t expected it. His mind had already started going haywire with the million questions he’d always wanted to ask her. Who was she really? How did she get here? How did she get _in_ here when he knew Fenton always locked everything and he was sure Eric had the only keys? Why did she keep appearing to him, mostly in stressful moments? Why did she never say anything? _How did she know he was there, and why wasn’t she doing anything to help?_  
When he realised she wasn’t slowing down he tried to pull himself up by the wrists again. It was almost fluid how she knelt on the bed beside his right leg and crawled upward toward his pelvis.  
She stopped to look him over and he found himself frozen. She’d never been this close. She still wasn’t touching him, but she was so close now that he could hear her breathe.   
He suddenly moaned in protest when he saw her lift her hand, knowing right away where she was planning to put it. She let it waver over him as he objected, almost frozen in time as her eyes stared at her hand. She was waiting for him to stop.  
He forced himself to be quiet just for moment, and as soon as he did her hand dropped. Her fingers gently slid into the right crease of his crotch and he moaned again when he felt her massage him just as carefully. This time she didn’t stop.   
She never sped up or slowed down, and when his body began to contort under the pressure she built he realised it was in sync with her movements. He closed his eyes again and tried to mentally talk himself through it as he knew where it was going, but then all of a sudden… she stopped.  
His eyes shot open and he was back to catching his breath. He could feel how red his face had gone just from the pressure alone, and it was still very much there. The woman’s hand had moved up to his pelvic bone and was lightly massaging the skin just above it instead.  
Then the electrodes hit again and Taylor’s body buckled. His fists and jaw clenched, the veins showing in his arms and neck. For a few seconds of agony he forgot she was even there. But as soon as the pain died down he could once again feel her hand roaming his sweat covered body.  
She was working her way up. She played with his navel for some time before moving up to his chest, and he noticed himself inadvertently holding his breath as her latex fingers caressed his ribs. Her hand roamed up and down the length of his body a few times as if she were playing a harp before she pushed herself further up onto the bed and suddenly straddled him.  
He grunted under her weight, though she certainly weighed less than Fenton. Her eyes stayed to her hands as they both began to move up and down his body. She slowly fed them into a familiar rhythm as they move up and down, up and down… and it took Taylor some time to realise she was practically grinding him at the same time.  
The build-up he’d felt just before almost immediately came back and he felt his face go red again as he struggled with his urges. He repeated to himself over and over in his head that she was still wearing the cat suit and wasn’t trying to get herself pregnant at least. It made it easier to handle mentally, but did nothing to help what was happening physically.  
The rhythm she’d settled on began to slow, and when Taylor was able to focus on her again he realised she was staring him in the eye. Her stare sent a powerful shiver down his spine, as though she were some kind of predator moving in for the kill. Just as if on cue, her right hand moved up to his throat.  
Taylor’s breathing quickened as he reactively but helplessly pulled at his wrists. He had to remind himself that he was Fenton’s, and if she were part of their community she had to abide his rules…  
Then her hand moved up to his face and suddenly blocked his nose. He didn’t realise what had happened at first, but it didn’t take long for the flashes behind his eyes to start. Realising she wasn’t letting go only made his panic multiply and he began to thrash on the bed. But as calm as if she were simply selecting groceries, she watched as his eyes glazed over and he painfully sank into oblivion.


	108. Chapter 108

Taylor jolted awake and instantly started thrashing. His chest was on fire and his vision didn’t clear before he felt another hand around his throat. A stronger one.  
“Stop it,” he heard Eric’s voice scorn.  
Taylor blinked furiously as he tried to clear the shadows from his eyes. But Eric had him by the muzzle and had pulled him up before he could. Taylor hadn’t even registered that his wrists were free.  
By the time he was able to grab onto Eric’s arm Eric had dragged him from the bed and into the middle of the floor. He was thrown to the ground there while Eric readied the pulley.  
“I’ll admit I didn’t expect you to actually get some sleep. Consider me impressed,” he smirked as Taylor grasped at his throat, still getting used to breathing consciously again.  
He tried to concentrate on waking himself up instead of the sound of chains, but being startled and not knowing what Eric was doing didn’t help. He pushed himself up onto his hip in time to see Eric lowering not one – but two separate chains.   
There was no sign of Fenton, and he couldn’t concentrate on the television long enough to work out the time.   
He wanted to run when he saw Eric coming for him, but he knew he had nowhere to go. Relenting he gave up his wrists for Eric to lock leather to chain.  
“So I hear you’ve been a bad boy…” Eric began, already making Taylor’s heart skip a beat as the cuffs were secured, “which is good news for me. Guess we’ll have to see what we can do about that.”  
Taylor groaned into the muzzle as Eric stood again and went to the pulley. He pulled down on his wrists one last time before the chains began to pull him upright. Eric watched as he struggled onto his knees and then onto his feet before even his heels and toes left the ground.  
Taylor closed his eyes again, praying that whatever Eric had planned would be over quickly. The only thing he was sure of was that it was going to hurt.  
The sound of the larger whip cracking confirmed his fears and he groaned again.  
“Hey,” Eric’s voice made him open his eyes, “I’m afraid you’re going to have to pay attention.”  
The next crack went across Taylor’s calves. Without his feet to anchor him Taylor felt himself sway from the hit, and the heat from the blow told him it had broken skin.  
“Just as well Jim bought this thing,” Eric pulled down on the muzzle appreciatively after it had blocked Taylor’s yell, “it seems to have served you both well.”  
Taylor coughed behind it after Eric let go, unprepared for the next crack across his shins. The front hurt so much more than behind and his eyes already began to water.   
“I’m not quite sure what happened,” Eric admitted conversationally as he stepped around to the front, “but it seems everything you learned before our little party has just gone out the… well, there aren’t any windows in here but you get the idea.”  
He stared Taylor in the eye as he lay another twin welt across his shin.  
“I understand there may be some anger involved, really I do. But the time has really come to put this all behind us, has it not?”  
Taylor just gave him a tired look. He couldn’t tell Eric why he’d done it, and most likely he wouldn’t care anyway. He probably helped Fenton organise the whole thing. They certainly seemed to be mostly his friends.  
“I mean really, how long can you expect this to go on? You’d want to retain at least a crumb of your sanity, surely?”  
Another welt across his left calf. Taylor already knew at this point that even if Eric let him down he wasn’t going to be able to put weight on his legs. He figured it must have been the point.  
It had to be a subconscious reminder that he wasn’t going anywhere.  
“And how can you expect to do that when you continue to do the same thing over and over and expect different results?”  
Taylor immediately tried to zone out. He knew from experience that this was going to continue for a while, and continue it did. Eric whipped his legs raw until there was barely a patch of skin not red or bloody and he was thankful when they very quickly went numb. He didn’t know how long it was before Eric figured it out but he could tell when he suddenly stopped talking and stepped away.  
The next thing he felt was Eric’s hand slapping his right butt cheek. When it pulled away and Taylor felt the cord hanging down he realised with fright that it was one of the electrodes.  
“Can’t have you falling asleep on me again,” Eric mused as the same happened to the left side, “still not sure how you managed it. But never mind… it won’t happen again.”  
Taylor’s cry was muffled before he suddenly felt the charge go through him again. His body stiffened so hard that the very tip of his left big toe managed to just barely scrape the tarp beneath him.  
“That’s better,” Eric mused, “now, I’m wondering if you could help me with something…”  
Taylor struggled to catch his breath again as Eric walked over to the bottom of the staircase. Taylor saw the familiar duffel sitting a few steps up. Eric let the whip hang over the stair rail before raiding it and coming up with a small book. He flicked through a few pages before marking one with his finger and coming back to Taylor with a key. Taylor flinched back when he saw him going for the muzzle but Eric took hold of it anyway and swiftly unlocked it.  
Once Eric cast it aside Taylor started taking deep breaths again.   
“One word,” was Eric’s way of warning Taylor not to saying anything otherwise, “I want you… to choose… a colour.”  
Taylor frowned in confusion before Eric opened the book and showed him the pages. The look didn’t leave his face when he saw four photos of what he presumed were local college girls.  
“Pick one,” Eric offered, “one word. Tell me a hair colour. Your favourite, if you wish.”  
Taylor’s eyes went to Eric’s face. He was patiently waiting for a reply.   
“Why?” he asked, yelping when Eric suddenly took hold of his jaw.  
It was just in time for the electrodes to dish out their own form of punishment again.  
“Not the word I was after,” Eric’s tone was low, “try again. Make it a colour this time.”  
Taylor couldn’t ignore the gut feeling he had when he’d looked at the photos. Something bad was going to happen if he chose one of them, he knew it. Maybe Eric had plans to go after them. Maybe he already had them somewhere and was planning to use one of them against him somehow.  
“Don’t try my patience,” Eric reminded him he was waiting.  
“No,” Taylor closed his eyes with a gulp, wanting to shake his head but Eric held it firm.  
“No?”  
Taylor was surprised when Eric let him go, staring him down a moment before walking around behind him.  
“Very well… Let’s see if this changes your mind.”  
Taylor held his breath as he heard the dial on the electrodes click. The pain immediately shot through him at a much higher rate and he couldn’t help but scream out.   
“Choose!” Eric’s voice insisted, grabbing Taylor firmly by the hair.  
“The blonde!” he yelped, Eric immediately letting him go.  
“Good boy,” he could hear the amusement in his voice, “that wasn’t so hard, was it?”


	109. Chapter 109

“What are you gonna do?” Taylor knew his words were already slurring.  
Eric took him by the hair again and pulled his head back sharply. Taylor yelped again as a sharp pain hit his neck.  
“You’re just not learning, are you?” he sounded dismal, “what was one of the very first lessons I taught you? If you need to know anything…?”  
“You’ll tell me,” Taylor gulped, leaning his head against his arm to try and hold his neck rigid.  
“Good boy,” Eric gave him a pat on the hip before walking around him again.  
Taylor eyed the small book in his hand as Eric quickly looked over the profile of the blonde.  
“Jasmine Crockett,” he seemed to be talking more to himself before looking up at Taylor, “I’d remember that name if I were you. It will be important later.”  
Taylor had already committed it to memory, but he was afraid to ask why. It was only the second time he’d even gotten a name from these people. Eric simply closed the book and returned it to his duffel. While he was out of arm’s reach Taylor finally took the chance.  
“Who’s the woman in the suit?”  
He’d often wondered why he’d never asked either one of them before, but he knew deep down it was because he’d hoped she was there to help him. That maybe she was somehow another victim of theirs who wasn’t just there to torment him. He’d never been sure that she were either friend or foe, but the morning’s actions proved to him just whose side she was on. Taylor knew she had to somehow be a part of their group, especially having known that he was there while none of the actual party members had.  
Eric’s back had visibly stiffened and he turned to look over his shoulder.  
“What woman?” he demanded, and Taylor was surprised.  
He’d expected Eric to hit him again for talking. He’d obviously peaked his curiosity instead.  
“She comes here sometimes,” Taylor’s brow furrowed, finding it hard to talk, “she wears a cat suit but she never says anything. I don’t know who she is. She’s… the one who knocked me out.”  
As he spoke Eric was edging closer. The look in his eye was sending a shiver down Taylor’s spine. But as if on cue, the electrodes hit him again.  
Eric stared at him patiently until the shock was over.  
“Does Jim know about her?” he demanded steadily.  
Taylor shook his head, unable to find his voice.  
“How many times have you seen her?”  
“I don’t know,” Taylor couldn’t shrug, “three or four?”  
“In over eight months?”  
He waited for Taylor’s nod, “did you have sex with her?”  
“No,” Taylor replied right away, “at least… I don’t think I did. She knocked me out when I was…”  
He looked toward the bed and Eric followed his eye line. When he turned back Taylor found his expression more worrying. He didn’t seem surprised, but he wasn’t happy. He was almost dismal.  
“If you…” he began softly, placing a finger at Taylor’s navel and trailing it upward, “breathe a word of this to Jim, rest assured that I will find out about it, and I will be back to finish what she started.”  
Taylor just frowned, wondering what that meant. He knew what the threat was – though he wondered how Eric did when he specifically didn’t say _how_ she’d knocked him out – but why wouldn’t he want Fenton to know? Why would he go to this extreme to cover for her?  
“Who is she?” he asked.  
“She is not your problem,” Eric insisted, stepping over to the rack and retrieving the ball gag.  
Taylor’s teeth clenched when he saw what he had. He’d never actually worn this one before and knew it was going to taste terrible.  
“I am,” Eric went on as he came back, “and for now, you need to focus on me. I want you begging for Jim’s forgiveness by the end of the day…“  
“I’ve already-!”  
“…and begging him to allow you the privilege of sucking his dick,” he added.  
That caught Taylor off guard. Long enough for Eric to step behind him and fasten the gag.   
“If he so wishes,” he finished, tightening the strap until it cut into Taylor’s cheeks.  
Taylor flinched but didn’t make a sound. He just looked up at the door, again wondering what time of day it was and how long Eric had been gone.  
“Let’s carry on, shall we?” Eric went to retrieve the whip from the stairs, “let’s see how many lashes we can get in before Daddy comes home.”  
Taylor grunted around the gag, unable to even adjust his weight. He knew how much it was going to hurt and his eyes even teared in anticipation. As a result he jumped when Eric took hold of his jaw again and looked him in the eye.  
“Hey,” he began softly, “it’s okay to cry, it’s meant to hurt. Now wish me luck that I don’t injure your spinal cord in the process. You’re so damn skinny.”  
He gave him a pat on the cheek before giving the whip a practise crack and walking around behind him again. Taylor’s breaths became shaky and before Eric could land the first blow the electrodes made themselves known once again.  
By the time Fenton did arrive home Taylor was sure his back had been shredded. Taylor barely noticed his arrival until he saw the basement door open.  
“Hey!” he wasn’t the only one who noticed, “come to join us?”  
Fenton just stared down at them and Taylor lowered his eyes again. His head was still resting against his arm, mostly to keep it from falling forward. Eric didn’t like it when that happened because he was never sure if he was still conscious.  
He closed his eyes when he heard the door shut again.  
“I’ve got shit to do tonight, Jim!” Eric called after him before grumbling to himself.  
The last strike seemed to have more bite before Eric finally relinquished the whip. He rubbed the palms of his hands on his pants as he came to Taylor’s front to check on him, satisfied once Taylor made eye contact.  
“Don’t go anywhere,” he smirked before heading upstairs to follow Fenton.  
Taylor watched him go, and as soon as he disappeared from sight he let his head tiredly hang. He was exhausted despite either laying or hanging all day. He hurt all over in the extreme. He worried now that Fenton was home Eric might even start all over again.  
The two took some time upstairs to hash out their plans for the night. In the end it was Eric who returned downstairs, coming to first remove Taylor’s gag.  
“Let’s get you set up for the night,” he said softly as he went to the pulley.  
“He’s not gonna see me?” Taylor’s voice croaked through the tears that refused to stop falling.  
“Not tonight,” Eric replied as he let the chains down and Taylor by proxy collapsed to the floor.  
Once he was unlocked Eric took him under the arms to drag him back toward the closet, knowing he couldn’t move himself. Taylor knew where he was going right away but he couldn’t object.  
Eric set him inside and moved the ankle chain to the corner before closing and locking the door.  
“Sleep tight,” Taylor heard his voice come through before his footsteps walked away.


	110. Chapter 110

It took a long time before Taylor even managed to admit to himself where he was. The first thing he had to do in there was find some way to sit without reopening a wound. He ended up at an awkward angle on his right hip and digging his shoulder into the wall. The second thing he did, once he felt that he could reach, was remove the electrodes before they could hit him again. Almost as soon as they hit the floor he heard the tell-tale zap of them going off.  
He stretched his legs out as far as they would go and leant his head against the wall, knowing he was going to have to settle in for the long haul. If Fenton didn’t want to see him and Eric had other plans, chances were Taylor was going to spend all night in the closet.   
That meant he had time to think. Time away from the pain and the torment, and time to clear his head. He had to decide what he was going to do. Whether he was actually going to continue trying to get through to Fenton on some kind of level of reason, or whether he was just going to give up in order to save what was left of his skin. Right now he felt like giving up everything.  
For now all he wanted to do was sleep, but the pain down his back and covering his legs was too fresh. A good deal of it remained numb but the slightest movement reminded him how covered in welts he truly was. If Eric’s goal had been to restrict his movement without physical restraint it had worked.   
He rubbed his face for the first time and felt how wet and sticky it was. His hair was itchy with sweat and he knew his eyes must have been a red likened to his wounds. But he couldn’t even wash his hands without access to water and knew he was just going to rub more sweat into his eyes if he kept going.   
It was a long time before he’d dried himself up enough that the tears just stopped falling. He’d started to imagine the closet as a sort of ‘safe booth’, much safer than the trunk. As long as he was in here neither Fenton or Eric would hurt him. If he considered what he was expecting once they let him out and compared it to what had just happened, the closet was almost like a timeout. He knew it was meant to be a punishment in itself but he couldn’t help but appreciate the breather.  
He was even getting used to the dark.  
He’d heard Eric’s footsteps make their way up the stairs and the door close behind him, but that was all. He didn’t hear the front door close and he didn’t hear a car drive away. For simply being behind a door in the same room he’d spent the better part of a year in, it managed to block a lot of sound. It did make him wonder exactly how much of his screaming Fenton had heard when he’d been in here before.  
And as if remembering how scared he’d been back then reminded his system that he was actually afraid, he felt the shivers start of their own accord.  
“I am not afraid…” he whispered to himself, “I am not afraid, I am not afraid…”  
He concentrated on his breathing, still worried about what effect the woman had had on him. His chest and throat still hurt from it and he hadn’t even been given a drink of water yet. He wondered if part of Fenton’s punishment was going to be starvation again. He already considered his treatment to be extreme, but he didn’t really know if the mirror held any sentimental significance to him or not. The fact that it came at a time surrounding the baby and the money for the house meant he also might have been stressed. Maybe he didn’t know what Eric had done, and maybe he didn’t care. He had more important things on his mind.  
Taylor had just given him yet another thing to stress about. He hadn’t even considered Fenton’s viewpoint on the whole thing. If getting Lacey pregnant had been Eric’s idea, Fenton might not have even agreed with it. Eric was good at pushing the doctor around. Taylor couldn’t discount the idea that it _had_ been Fenton’s doing, but Eric just seemed a more likely culprit. Despite Fenton’s complete lack of empathy where it came to life and death…  
Taylor groaned and dug his head harder into the wall, the only way he could move without hurting. He was confusing himself. He just didn’t want to admit that he was subject to the whim of someone who would volunteer a slave for breeding. Someone who considered torture to be a suitable punishment for accidentally breaking a mirror. Though in hindsight Taylor guessed it wouldn’t really be considered an accident, and maybe he wasn’t being punished for that… maybe he was being punished because he’d let his anger get the better of him. Fenton had never wanted him to show emotion and anger had to be right up there with anything else. Taylor could see now that it was with reason. Anger was destructive. Nothing was going to change his situation, he was just going to destroy everything around him. Unlike being at home where breaking something might have made him feel better, here it just made him feel worse. Nothing here was his after all, everything belonged to Fenton. He wasn’t breaking his own possessions, he was breaking things Fenton had worked hard to pay for. Today it was the mirror, who knew what it would be tomorrow?  
Once again, he realised Fenton was right. He might not agree with his methods but his reasons were sound. If the past eight months hadn’t proved to Taylor that he was stuck here forever, nothing was going to. There was no point in reacting in such ways. He needed to take Fenton’s advice and just… stop. Turn himself off. Do as he was told and let fate take over. The worst that could happen was that he would finally die, and if that’s what Fenton wanted there’d be nothing he could do to stop him anyhow. That had already been proven once this morning.  
With a sigh he almost closed his eyes, preferring to keep them open a slit so he could see the tiny amount of light from the television come through the crack where his chain sat. It was enough to remind him that he wasn’t blind though he did continually find it harder to see. He often wondered if the basement light bulb was going to last much longer, or if Fenton had somehow restricted how much power made it down there. Taylor knew his sight hadn’t been great to begin with and the dim lighting couldn’t be helping, but for now he was just content that they hadn’t somehow taken it away. He knew Fenton already wanted to see him blindfolded again. Right now he wasn’t sure he’d be able to resist anything the man wanted.  
But that had been the plan all along. To make him pliable, obedient. Taylor knew very well that it was only because he was defiant that he was getting hurt, and if he just gave in… Fenton would have no reason to call on Eric. If he did whatever Fenton wanted, no matter how hard it was for him, realistically he might never have to see Eric again.  
He couldn’t think of anything he wanted more. To never see Eric again. He never came over to visit just for the sake of it anymore, he was always there for a reason. As long as the reason wasn’t Taylor he rarely even came to the basement. Somehow Taylor needed to assure Fenton that Eric would never again need to step through that door.  
But for now, Taylor knew it wasn’t up to him. Whatever was happening today wasn’t over. Not until Fenton decided that it was. Perhaps he needed to start this process off by agreeing to whatever he was going to dish out right away. When Fenton finally let him out, he needed to take whatever he was given with understanding and maybe even gratitude. Whatever would calm Fenton down.  
Hopefully he’d be well enough to take whatever was coming.  
It took a long time, and Taylor wasn’t sure how long, but he did finally manage to get some fitful sleep in the closet. Despite the pain – as much as it was settling – he was just too worn out. Not knowing what might be coming the next day, he didn’t bother trying to keep himself awake.


	111. Chapter 111

Taylor jumped when the door opened. He’d been asleep and hadn’t heard anyone’s footsteps coming in. The light made him squint but he didn’t move otherwise as he looked up to see whose shadow wasn’t blocking enough of it.  
It was Fenton, and Taylor wasn’t sure whether he should feel relieved or not.  
“Can you move?” Fenton demanded.  
All Taylor could get out was a grunt, though he wasn’t sure what he would have said either way. As he managed to push himself back up onto his hip he saw a reflection on the wall from the bottle of water in Fenton’s hand.  
“Good,” Fenton took a step back to open the door further, “come out.”  
Taylor wasn’t sure he was ready for the movement, but he didn’t want to disappoint Fenton. He managed to work out that crawling on his knees wouldn’t hurt any of his wounds and he slowly emerged onto the floor. When he was out he jumped as Fenton took him by the hair.  
“Drink,” Taylor saw the bottle waved in front of his face.  
He fell onto his hip again and reached for it with his right hand, only remembering the leather cuffs were still on his wrists when he saw them in his eye line. He took the bottle and leant on his elbow as he struggled to open it before drinking as Fenton instructed. Water already made him feel better.  
Fenton set his hand on Taylor’s head until he stopped for a breather.  
“Thank you,” Taylor panted as he shakily set the bottle on the floor, watching it until it sat still.  
“Anything else you’d like to say to me?”  
Taylor stared at the bottle a little longer before looking up to where Fenton was stooped over.  
“Please forgive me?” he begged, sincere and not recited.  
Fenton paused as if deciding whether to or not, before reaching down to give him another pat.  
“Take a seat,” he instructed, indicating the chair which was now sitting over the tarp, “I need to look you over.”  
Taylor was breathing easier at that, hoping this round of torment might actually be over. It was hard at first but he managed to pull himself over to the chair and up enough to sit on it. He didn’t lean back because he knew it would hurt his wounds, despite already having to sit on a few.  
He saw that Fenton already had a case with him and watched as he set it on the bed and opened it. He brought a few ointments and bandages back to the chair before tentatively beginning to inspect the larger wounds. Taylor tried not to flinch but had to a few times. He distracted himself with CNN in the meantime, seeing that Fenton must have woken up early to do it before leaving for work.  
Fenton worked on his legs and back, only bandaging the larger welts, before instructing Taylor to stand. Finding that he was unable to he went to ready the pulley again. Taylor didn’t object and let him lock the cuffs to the chains again. Fenton pulled him up to his feet before removing the chair and getting back to work.  
By the time he was done Taylor knew he was running late again. Fenton didn’t bother letting him down before fitting the muzzle again.  
“Eric will be by to see you again this morning,” he said once the lock clicked in place.  
He put a hand to Taylor’s cheek when he suddenly started breathing heavier.  
“Don’t be scared,” he insisted, “I believe he just has something to show you. I’ll have him let you down.”  
He looked Taylor over again before stepping aside. He quickly cleaned up everything he’d brought down, leaving the water bottle aside, before ascending the stairs. Taylor heard his car leave and closed his eyes as he began the wait for Eric.  
This wasn’t off to a good start. He’d hoped Eric wouldn’t have had to come back. He was just starting to wonder how long he was going to be before a story on CNN caught his attention.  
 _”The seventeen year old college student was last seen walking home from a carpool drop off near her home…”_  
Taylor was already shaking his head.  
“ _No,_ ” he moaned into the gag.  
 _”…while the teen’s parents are calling for anyone with information to come forward, the Tulsa police department-“_  
Taylor flinched as the door to the basement opened. When he managed to turn himself he wasn’t at all surprised to see Eric in the doorway.  
“Looks like I’m just in time,” he appreciated, descending the stairs with a manila folder in his hands.  
Taylor looked back to the screen but the story had ended. Even though he’d known as soon as he’d seen the missing persons photo, the sound of the anchor saying her name was echoing in his ears.  
 _Jasmine Crockett_.  
Taylor jumped and leant back when Eric came straight for him, unexpectedly unlocking and removing the muzzle.  
“What did you do?!” he momentarily forgot his limitations.  
“I’ll tell you,” Eric replied matter-of-factly, calmly returning the muzzle to the rack.  
“Did you abduct her?!”  
“I did.”  
“Because… because I chose her?”  
Eric shrugged at that as he came back, “she would have been abducted regardless.”  
He indicated the television, “but I had to make sure that she made the news. The others, may not.”  
“You have contacts in the media,” Taylor realised, looking across to CNN.  
“My boy, you’re missing the point,” Eric looked amused, “why do you think I made this happen?”  
“I don’t know,” Taylor shook his head, “I don’t know why you’d do that. Why would I-?”  
He cut off as Eric opened the folder. He selected one photo of many and held it up for Taylor to see.  
“Do you recognise the woman in this photo?” he asked calmly.  
Taylor’s eyes were already watering. The photo had been taken from a distance, and Taylor could clearly see Eric to the right of it. Barely yards away…  
“Natalie,” he almost choked, “it’s Natalie.”  
“Good boy,” Eric offered him some more photos, “tell me again, why did I make this happen?”  
The photos weren’t all taken at the same time, but Eric was in a lot of them. In one of them he even seemed to have started a conversation with her on a sidewalk. All of them were taken with a long lens from a distance as if she were being stalked. He had no idea how long ago it had been.  
“You…” Taylor had trouble getting the words out, “to prove that you could take anyone.”  
“Not just take,” Eric let them fall to the floor, “I feel like you’ve underestimated my abilities thus far. Not only in my work, but in how seriously I take it and how far I’ll go to keep people quiet.”  
“I believe you,” Taylor insisted through his teeth as his tears fell, “I swear I believe you!”  
“Well that’s a start,” Eric assured, “but we have a way to go before I decide that I can trust you.”  
With that, Eric headed for the stairs again.  
“I’ve never given you reason to hurt them,” Taylor called after him desperately.  
Eric paused halfway up, looking back over his shoulder.  
“Don’t give me one now,” he gave a small smile before continuing on his way.


	112. Chapter 112

Taylor heard Fenton’s car returning, but he kept his eyes to the floor. Eric hadn’t let him down like Fenton had told him he would and his arms had long ago gone red and numb. He wasn’t hanging like he had been the day before but his legs hadn’t been strong enough to hold him up the whole day either. By the time Fenton made an appearance he was able to force himself to stand again.  
Fenton came down slowly and Taylor didn’t bother to turn himself. He only looked up when Fenton came to stand in front of him.  
“Did Eric see you?” he asked, staring somewhere below Taylor’s eyes.  
Taylor presumed he was worried to find him free of the gag.  
“He did,” Taylor’s voice came out surprisingly normal for how strung out he felt.  
“Then you know what’s at stake.”  
“You said you’d tell me about my family,” Taylor didn’t even blink, “about how they really were.”  
Fenton paused, but nodded slightly.  
“Tell me now.”  
Fenton looked him in the eye and Taylor’s gaze didn’t waver.   
“They are doing well considering,” his tone wasn’t very reassuring, “however both Natalie and Penelope are on continuing prescriptions and young Viggo needs sedatives to sleep at night.”  
“What kind of prescriptions?” Taylor felt his heart jump.  
“Zoloft,” Fenton answered straight away, “for depression and anxiety. It also helps with PTSD.”  
Taylor swallowed hard, at least not having to stop any tears. He didn’t think he had it in him today.  
“If you swear to let me know if anything changes with them…” he began as calm as he could muster, “I promise I will never ask about them again.”  
A flicker of surprise crossed Fenton’s eyes, and Taylor knew what he’d said had pleased him. He maintained his stare to assure Fenton that he was serious. After a very awkward moment of silence between them Fenton looked up to Taylor’s hands and the colour they’d gone before producing the keys and starting to unlock the chains.  
“I would appreciate that,” he affirmed.  
“But do you swear?” Taylor needed confirmation.  
Fenton waited until both cuffs had been unfastened and Taylor quickly shook out his arms to get the blood circulating again.  
“I do,” he returned once Taylor’s focus was on him again.  
Taylor just nodded, about to thank him before he stepped away. He returned upstairs to fetch two new pails – one with water – and when he came back instructed Taylor to clean up the mess he’d left that day. Taylor obeyed easily, having expected it, and quickly got to work as Fenton watched on. His mind had started working overtime wondering if he really had the guts to say what he’d been planning to for most of the day.  
When he was done Fenton took everything back upstairs and Taylor stayed on his knees on the slightly-wet tarpaulin. He took the time to watch CNN as he waited for Fenton to come back. When Fenton did come back he had Taylor’s dinner with him, but Taylor didn’t move from the floor. Taylor watched as Fenton eyed him curiously before taking it over to the chair.  
“Is something wrong?” he turned back to ask.  
 _Where to begin?_  
“I’m not… really sure how this works,” Taylor was both apologetic and confused, “but I need to say something.”  
At Fenton’s hesitation he openly indicated the floor in front of him. He was inviting Fenton to stand over him, as he’d only done a few times before. Mostly when he was angry.   
Fenton took him up on the offer and came to stand on the tarp, curiously.  
“Yes?”  
“I um…” Taylor spread his hands a little awkwardly, “I surrender.”  
Fenton’s eyes narrowed, and Taylor knew he was going to have to go on.  
“I surrender, to you,” he hoped he sounded sincere, “in… whatever you want. I don’t want to fight anymore. I _can’t_ fight anymore, and I want to stop hurting.”  
He paused to bite his lip, unsure of Fenton’s reaction. He was still staring.  
“Like I said, I don’t know how this works. But I just wanted you to know.”  
“You’re asking me to collar you?”  
Taylor blanched and his eyes immediately fell. He knew he hadn’t entirely thought it through, but now was as good a time as any to face the repercussions of his decision.  
“If that’s what you want,” he agreed, “I just… I just want to do whatever you want. I want to make you happy.”  
Taylor felt his nerves coming back in the short silence that followed before Fenton took a step forward and gently put a hand on his head.  
“Prove it to me,” made Taylor close his eyes under the touch, “I don’t like to distrust you, Taylor, but I have tried in the past.”  
“I know,” Taylor assured, “I’ll do better, I promise.”  
“What are you going to do for me?”  
“Whatever you want,” he shook his head, “I’ll wear the binder, I’ll try the hood, I’ll even…”  
He gulped slightly as if the words aloud were screaming at him that this was a bad idea.  
“I’ll even suck you if you want,” he lowered his head so Fenton couldn’t see his frown.  
He quickly wiped it from his face when Fenton pulled his head back by the hair again.  
“There is a contract for you to sign,” he said softly, “to show your commitment. There’s a collaring ceremony that needs to take place. But a lot of that can wait.”  
“For what?” Taylor was conscious of Fenton still holding his hair, gentle though it was.  
“Until we move,” Fenton replied before finally letting him go and heading back to the chair, “now that I have the finance it should be moving along a bit faster. My lawyer and I need a meeting with my sister in the forthcoming weeks in order to buy her out of the property, and then some renovations need to be done.”  
He’d fetched the dinner plate and started walking back.  
“I hope this means we can move sometime in November.”  
“You have a house already?” Taylor was confused, “or… it belongs to her?”  
“It was an inheritance we shared. It has been leased,” Fenton stopped to hand him the plate, “eat before it gets cold.”  
“Where is it?” Taylor couldn’t help but try, “is it big? Is… the basement big?”  
Fenton sighed a little, recognising that Taylor wasn’t going to start eating yet.  
“The basement is larger than this one,” he relented, “but I will not expect you to be confined to it.”  
Taylor felt his eyes widen involuntarily. Fenton must have recognised the look.  
“Here, it is necessity,” he explained, “the neighbourhood is close proximity, noise travels far. People often walk down the street. Where we’re going, I won’t have to worry so much about prying eyes.”  
Taylor’s eyes lowered as Fenton stared a moment before departing. He wasn’t sure if that was good news or bad news. But if all else failed… he’d be getting out of this box of a dungeon at least.


	113. Chapter 113

Sleeping at night was hard, even on the bed. Taylor had to stay on his stomach for the most part but still had trouble keeping his legs elevated. Despite Fenton bandaging the larger wounds the smaller ones still hurt to the touch. This went on for days until most of them finally scabbed over.  
After about a week he was able to have the larger dressings off. Thankfully Fenton didn’t feel the need to rape him again until this point, and Taylor figured it was more because he had other things on his mind rather than to do with Taylor’s state of wellbeing. But at the same time, he was sure Fenton was worried about reopening some of the gashes, and he even seemed worried when he started again. It was more gentle than usual.  
Their basic routine didn’t change after that but some of Taylor’s treatment did. Though Fenton appeared to be more distracted with business upstairs, he allowed Taylor a little more freedom down there. Not that he had anything to do with it. Fenton left the leather cuffs on his wrists (Taylor was no longer sure if they belonged to him or Eric) and didn’t handcuff him again, even to bathe or shave him. They were uncomfortable during the heat of the day and he found himself sweating under them, but he didn’t want to take them off on his own accord and just reminded himself the weather would get cooler again soon.   
Aside from that first day Taylor was soon back to wearing the muzzle. He had to admit to himself that he felt odd without it. He’d worn it just about every day he’d been down there and he almost began to feel naked without it.   
He had no idea what Fenton had done with the photos Eric had shown him, but Eric hadn’t been back since then. He wasn’t even sure who had cleaned up the broken glass. It had to have happened while he’d been asleep in the closet. Now that Taylor had a lot more time to think during the days on his own he’d even realised another reason Fenton thought the mirror was such a big deal… The glass shards could have been used as a weapon.  
They’d certainly been sharp enough, and Fenton hadn’t come near him until he’d backed away from them. But at the time the thought hadn’t even crossed Taylor’s mind that he could use them. He could have stabbed Fenton or worse. Now that he’d actually thought about it though, he wasn’t really sure that he would have anyway. Could he really hurt Fenton like that now? Was anything like that worth the consequences he knew he’d have to face?  
He knew the answer to that. Nothing was. Nor would it ever be again. He wasn’t sure if Fenton knew the threat Eric had made to his family, but it didn’t change anything. Fenton’s reaction would be to call Eric. Eric’s reaction… Taylor didn’t want to think about. He knew Eric was a man of his word.  
As time moved on Taylor ended up spending most of his days just waiting for Fenton to return home. He spent a lot of time by the air conditioner straining to hear the sound of his car. He began to find himself once again verging on the point of lonely where he just wanted to know that Fenton was home. Even if he stayed upstairs Taylor was happy to just hear him there.  
With Fenton busy nothing particularly came of Taylor’s offer. Fenton occasionally expressed a desire to do something different, and Taylor didn’t object, but a month went by and nothing happened. Taylor sometimes found himself hoping for Fenton to experiment just so something new would happen. Just so he had something to pinpoint on the calendar instead of the days all melding together again. The next thing he had to look forward to seemed to be the house move, and he wasn’t even sure when that was happening. Fenton could never give him an actual date.  
Sometime at the beginning of October Fenton let it slip that the tenants of the house had finally moved out. As a result he had to go to Oklahoma City to meet with his sister and their lawyers as earlier mentioned. Taylor assumed he’d be confined to the trunk in the meantime, and he was right. But Fenton was only gone for one night and so didn’t leave him more than one meal. Taylor fretted at first about being left alone – it wasn’t so much that Fenton was gone overnight, more that he was going so far away – but found as the night wore on that he was able to pretend. The best part was that Eric didn’t even pay a visit. At least not while Taylor was awake.  
When Fenton returned from the trip he gave Taylor an extra ‘bath’ before surprising him with something seemingly insignificant. For only the second time (the first being the night of the party) Fenton took a brush to Taylor’s hair, and this time he tied it in a ponytail. Taylor couldn’t even remember the last time he’d been able to tie it up, and felt he had to touch the tail to make sure it was there. Fenton slapped his hand away and ordered him not to. Taylor could feel that it was loose and it was going to fall out if he had to move too much, but he was going to have to leave that up to Fenton to deal with now. His own hair was suddenly off limits.  
As October wore on Taylor found his dreams began to change. Along with the dark, depressing and scary suddenly came a slew of just… dreams. Ones that he could actually call dreams rather than nightmares. For days he had one recurring dream where he was lying on his back in six inch grass surrounded by yellow dandelions with the warm sunlight falling over him. Every time he’d just lay there savouring the moment, but every time he’d somehow become conscious of it and remember that it couldn’t possibly be real. In that moment the sun would turn dark and the grass and flowers quickly began to rot. Before he could wake himself up what had once been the sun always became the light bulb in the basement.  
But there were others. Sometimes he was cooking in an old kitchen. Sometimes he was digging a hole in some dirt. Sometimes he just stood and stared at some distant trees. But all of them had something in common – freedom. Taylor knew it must have been some kind of reaction to what Fenton had said about not confining him to a basement in the new house, but he knew logically that it didn’t mean he wouldn’t be ‘confined’ elsewhere. Fenton certainly wouldn’t let him roam free, not like his dreams taunted him with. Maybe those were the renovations Fenton had mentioned.  
It was a few days before Halloween – before Ezra’s birthday – when Taylor got the hint that those renovations might not have been going so well. Fenton was saying goodnight on the Tuesday before going to bed himself when he dropped his newest bombshell.  
“I have someone coming over to see you on Friday.”  
“Who?” Taylor’s eyes shot to him, “Eric?”  
“No,” Fenton reassured, “someone else. Someone who’s met you before.”  
Taylor could feel a shiver run down his spine as Fenton took to the stairs.   
“Have you sold me again?” he felt faint before realising he’d stopped breathing a moment.  
“One time,” Fenton paused to look down at him, “I was made an offer I couldn’t refuse. He was… disappointed with not being able to see your eyes. I could understand.”  
“Someone from the party,” Taylor realised under his breath with a nod, “will he rape me?”  
He was surprised to hear the words come out so easily, though his fists were clenching the bedcovers.   
“No. I will not allow it.”  
Taylor dropped his eyes and Fenton continued up the stairs.  
“We’ll talk more tomorrow. I don’t want you to worry.”  
Taylor grimaced as the door closed. Of course he was going to worry. He was already having flashbacks to July and what he remembered was nothing he wanted to repeat.  
But if it was what he had to do to keep Fenton happy, and to get out of this basement…


	114. Chapter 114

The next day Taylor wasn’t given much more than he already had. Fenton wouldn’t, and really couldn’t, tell him which of the men he was talking about – Taylor wouldn’t be able to differentiate the guests anyhow. He just had to hope that it wasn’t one of the few he’d been most afraid of and leave it at that. Maybe once he heard the man’s voice he’d recognise which one he’d been.  
But he was going to have to wait until Friday. Which came faster once he started dreading it.  
When Fenton got home he bathed him and once again brushed his hair. He removed the leather cuffs which had started to smell and replaced them with the handcuffs keeping Taylor’s hands behind him. He was disrupted three times during the process to go and answer the front door for trick-or-treaters. When he returned the third time he revealed that Eric would be coming over to help him ‘keep up appearances’ while Taylor saw to their guest.  
Taylor had thought of calling for help from the kids that came to the door, but quickly dismissed it for a number of reasons. The first being that it was Halloween – kids expected things like that to happen, more likely from homes that probably weren’t decorated much to begin with. The second and more important reason was that of all people, he did not want children to find him. He knew it wouldn’t be long before they found out the truth of why he was there and it would probably haunt them for life. So despite being free of the gag, Taylor remained quiet as Fenton fussed about him.  
Fenton didn’t feed him dinner, but Taylor hadn’t expected it. If he wasn’t too scarred he hoped to get some later in the night. Once Fenton found his charge satisfactory he headed back upstairs and left the basement door open. Taylor listened to him moving about in the kitchen as he prepared his own dinner before Eric’s arrival a short time later. To Taylor’s relief the man stayed upstairs.  
The evening broadcast had just started when there was a louder knock at the door. Taylor could instantly tell the difference. Eric welcomed him in and Taylor could tell by footfalls that he’d come alone. They spent some time upstairs talking first. Taylor could hear Fenton laying out the rules, similar to what he’d heard at the party but a little more strict. He could hear the other man replying in agreement but couldn’t really recognise his voice from here. He wasn’t talking very loudly. When they were done Eric was the one to show him to the basement door.  
Taylor stayed put at the end of the bed and took a deep breath to prepare himself. He waited until Eric had said his last word and the door had closed behind him before he looked up to the landing.  
He did a double take. The man who stood there was clad in a heavy jacket, jeans and boots and was carrying a grey backpack. Which would have been intimidating enough were it not for the werewolf Halloween mask he was also wearing.   
Taylor stared as he descended the stairs. He couldn’t see the man’s eyes through the mask, and knowing that he was staring back from behind it made the hairs on his neck stand on end. He couldn’t pull his eyes away and the silence only made it worse. When he got to the bottom of the stairs he stopped to stare at Taylor a little longer, and Taylor finally admitted to himself that it had to be on purpose. If the man’s goal was intimidation it was definitely working.  
When he next moved he hung the backpack from the end of the stairs and pulled the zipper open. Taylor could feel the pit in his stomach growing before he pulled out something leather. It looked like a belt with extra buckles, and Taylor guessed that was pretty much what it was once it was pulled completely free.  
The man came to place it on the bed beside him before going back to the bag.  
Taylor felt as though he should say something, but he wasn’t sure what. Any time he asked Fenton what he was doing he never got an answer, and was sure the same would apply to anyone else. The silence from this man only made him worry more and he just wanted to provoke him into saying _something_ , even if it was only to tell him to be quiet. Not having been told by Fenton to stay quiet this time he opted to take the chance.  
“Is there something I can-?”  
He cut off when the man raised a hand in a signal to be quiet. He couldn’t even find his voice enough to just say it. Taylor bit his lip as he pulled more leather from the bag and added it to the growing pile on the bed.  
He looked up at the door, wondering how far Fenton was going to let this man go. Or if whether he annoyed this man too much that it would be up to Eric to punish him for it. The thought seemed to throw a wet blanket over his panic and he dropped his eyes. Despite not knowing this man’s intentions, he still preferred him being here to Eric.  
He waited for him to finish what he was doing before looking up again as he walked away. Taylor thought he’d been moving toward the rack, but instead he’d gone to the televisions. Taylor watched as he paused to watch the silent one before leaning in to turn the volume down on CNN. It made Taylor automatically flinch. The sudden lack of sound – despite the noises from upstairs and in the street – hurt his ears as much as the drone had when he’d first had to get used to it. When he finally looked up again the man was removing his mask.   
Taylor didn’t know what he’d expected to see, but the man was obviously still – like his counterparts at the party – insistent on hiding his identity. Under the mask he’d been wearing a woollen balaclava which revealed only his eyes. Taylor could now at least see that they were brown, and his skin tone was somewhat Mexican in appearance.  
The man set the mask at the bottom of the stairs before coming back to the bed. Taylor tried not to make it obvious that he was looking him over but the man didn’t seem to care less what Taylor did with his eyes. He collected two of the more odd shaped pieces of leather and walked around in front of Taylor before kneeling to the ground.  
Realising they were going on his feet, Taylor frowned as he tried to balance himself. They were similar to cuffs but sat lower on his feet with straps left to hang loose. Once both were locked on the man suddenly took hold of Taylor’s jewels to use as leverage to help himself up. Taylor grunted under the grip and buckled his body but it was over as soon as it began.  
“What do you want me to do?!” he asked through his teeth, more from the shock of being grabbed than anything else.  
The man took up the next object without a word and came to Taylor’s side. Taylor looked up in time for a large leather gag to be shoved in his face. He flinched back but the man took hold of his head and forced the leather shape into his mouth. The strap was buckled tight behind his head and Taylor heard a lock click into place just as fast. He grunted again as the man pulled his ponytail back to check that it was firmly set before letting him go and moving away.  
Taylor kept his eye on him this time. He went straight for the pulley and brought the chains crashing to the floor, the sound loud enough to make Taylor jump. Taylor gave the door a glance wondering if it would catch Fenton’s attention, but nothing happened. The man came back to retrieve him.  
Taylor found it hard to walk with the leather strapping on his feet but the man was patient with him. When they got to the pulley he pushed Taylor to the ground, and only then did he make the connection of what they were for.  
He was being hung upside down.  
Taylor groaned in protest but he wasn’t sure if even that made it through. The man made swift work of the restraints and Taylor soon felt the pull down his legs as he was dragged upward.


	115. Chapter 115

Taylor had nothing to grab onto behind him but his arms hurt if he let them fall. He tried to keep them straight against his back as long as he could, his eyes only catching shadows of the man’s legs as he walked by. He heard the rattle of the buckles as the belt was retrieved from the bed – the last piece of the man’s puzzle so far. Taylor felt it gently looped around his waist before being tightly secured and also locked. Once the belt was in place Taylor watched his feet return to the stairs as he retrieved yet more from the backpack, before coming back to place different leather cuffs around his wrists.  
Taylor hung helplessly and let it happen. He wasn’t in a position to make it at all difficult. He wasn’t sure what the man had to gain from this position but considering he had already begun to feel dizzy he was sure it wouldn’t be long before he found out.  
The cuffs were fastened to the back of the belt before Taylor felt the handcuffs being removed. Now that his wrists were secured he could at least let them hang from the belt so his shoulders could relax a little. He tried to concentrate on breathing evenly as the man threw the handcuffs onto the bed. He could already feel the blood rushing to his head and had started to wonder how long he could last without passing out. Particularly without having eaten since breakfast.  
It took him some time before he realised nothing had happened for a while and he looked up for where his tormentor stood. He was standing by the staircase watching. Staring yet again. But as if he’d been waiting for Taylor’s attention, he started forward and took hold of him again.  
Taylor yelped under the gag, unable even to struggle with more than his hands. He tried to curl his body in but he couldn’t even bend his knees and he didn’t have the upper body strength to hold himself up. He groaned when he both realised the futility and that the man wasn’t letting go this time.  
He felt the man roughly rub against him, his fingers filling every crease in their wake. He pulled Taylor’s body against his own as his hands roamed, somewhat reminiscent of the woman in the cat suit but with a lot more vigour. He began to grind against him as one hand ventured up Taylor’s right leg before Taylor felt his fingers dig into the flesh of his whip-scarred calf as if he’d already climaxed.  
He struggled to even out his breathing as he was let go. The man went to fetch the chair. Taylor kept his eyes to his feet in case he’d come back, and he soon did. The man set the chair in front of Taylor and took a seat. With his only view the underside of the chair now, he couldn’t see what the man was doing. But he heard a zipper and a short groan before he was taken hold of again and Taylor felt himself go into the man’s mouth.  
He remembered this from the party. He was even starting to think he might have pinpointed which ‘guest’ this guy had been. He could feel his eyes tear up as he began to relive some of that night but barely a mumble escaped the thick gag. He took longer with Taylor than he had with himself, and Taylor knew he was getting off on dominating Taylor’s inability to force his body to resist. Taylor had no idea how long it lasted before the chair was shifted back and the man pulled off before he could fully succumb. The result was a mess, and Taylor could definitely feel it. But he was sure he wasn’t the only one covered in it.  
The man didn’t seem to care. He stood from the chair and kicked it aside before falling to his knees. Taylor didn’t want to look up to see what he was doing, but he felt him take hold of the belt and use it to spin him around. The next thing he went for was the gag.  
Taylor closed his eyes, thankful that he wouldn’t have to choke on it much longer. He felt it unlocked and roughly unbuckled, and coughed as it was finally pulled free. He heard it land to the side as the man threw it before he was spun back to face him, and the man took hold of his head.  
Far from it to be to check whether Taylor was okay, he soon filled Taylor’s mouth with something else. Taylor grimaced around it and kept his eyes closed this time. He recognised right away that the odd shape of the gag had been significant – it was the same shape as this. Taylor hated right away that he remembered from the party what the guy wanted purely based on that shape. Despite the man’s lack of vocal guidance, Taylor didn’t need it.  
But he wouldn’t let go of his head. Taylor struggled to breathe through his nose especially with the man’s testis pushing against it, until after what seemed like forever before he finally pulled out.  
Taylor choked again and twisted his head to spit onto the tarp. The front of his hair that had escaped the ponytail was already dragging in the fluids beneath him and he tried to focus on the patterns it made as he worked to catch his breath. The appreciative groans from the man above him were distracting but all he could do was sway.  
He was just starting to see flashes behind his eyes. The same ones that came when the woman had tried to suffocate him. He closed his eyes and waited to finally pass out, until he felt the man take hold of his head again.  
“No please!” his reaction was to choke out, before feeling it land on something soft.  
When he opened his eyes he saw the man had set the backpack on the floor and manoeuvred Taylor’s head to rest on it. The next thing he knew the pulley had been lowered.  
He panted as his body finally hit the ground, uncaring of the mess he’d fallen into. He’d never been so glad to be on the floor. Without releasing him from any other restraints the man came back to his side and somewhat gently rolled him onto his stomach. Taylor used his chin to hold his head up as he felt the man go for his hands. At first he just seemed to look them over, before taking hold of his left and starting to massage his palm. Taylor knew they must have been red – maybe even purple by now, but was sure it was just a precedence for having to use them to service him in some way. The thought brought more tears to his eyes and he clenched his teeth as he tried to shut himself off. He knew he could put up with a lot, but fear of the unknown always tormented him.  
Taylor didn’t dare ask him to stop when he could feel the pins and needles take over his hand, but he soon moved on to the right. Taylor took the time to try and listen to the television and distinguish a time but the volume was far too low and he was facing the wrong direction. He couldn’t even remember what time they’d started.  
When the man was done Taylor felt the cuffs being unlocked, along with the belt. Once the cuffs were free he was able to push himself up so the belt could be removed but he fell back to the ground straight after.   
The man rolled him onto his back and Taylor just lay there tiredly. He didn’t even move when he was knelt over and a hand reached for his face. Taylor felt the man cup his chin before looking up to see him staring down into his eyes. Not knowing what he wanted, Taylor could feel himself starting to panic again. He felt the hand move before a thumb slid into his mouth. Taylor struggled to keep his hands away but turned his eyes to the ceiling as he was made to suck on it, before it was pulled out barely moments later. He held Taylor’s face again until he’d look him in the eye before turning to unlock the ankle cuffs.  
Taylor let some tears go at this point. He was being released, so it had to be over. The man took everything back to his bag and zippered it up while Taylor remained on the floor. He saw in his peripheral as he replaced the Halloween mask over his head, turned back to stare down at him one more time, and then head on up the stairs.  
Taylor waited until the basement door closed behind him before tightly closing his eyes again.


	116. Chapter 116

It was a long time before the door opened again. Taylor could hear plenty of noise from upstairs – his tormentor stayed for a drink after and Eric stayed even longer, as well as door knockers continuing to visit throughout the night – but he didn’t move from the floor. He didn’t see the point. He was covered in filth and it would only dirty the bed or the chair or wherever he decided to go. Fenton wouldn’t approve. Instead he just stayed put staring up at the pulley for the following couple of hours until he heard Eric leave and Fenton finally come to the door.  
He stopped at the landing to survey.   
“Taylor, are you alright?”  
Taylor took a deep breath, summoning the energy to respond.  
“I need to clean up,” was all he could muster.  
Fenton paused for a while before disappearing into the house. Taylor heard the taps running and the pails filling before he returned to the basement. He set them at the edge of the tarp before Taylor finally pulled himself up onto his side.  
“Are you able?”   
He’d kept his eyes down but Taylor could hear his concern. He nodded in response before shifting onto his hands and knees.  
“Did he rape you?”  
“No,” Taylor assured.  
“I’ll fetch some towels.”  
Taylor waited until he’d left again before crawling to the pails. He took note that one was soapy and one was clear, and for the first time had a look around at the mess that had been left. A lot of it had dried but Taylor knew it should be pretty easy to get off the tarp. When Fenton returned with the towels Taylor took a smaller one and dipped it into the soapy water before getting to work.  
Fenton stood by the stairs to watch at first, and Taylor knew it was probably because he’d been uncomfortable at the intrusion. Taylor made sure to catch every drop that had spilled to the floor before starting on himself. When he began to go over himself with the clean water as opposed to the soapy Fenton took the first pail upstairs to empty out and left Taylor to it for a while.  
When he was done he set the pail and towels aside before finally pulling himself to his feet and heading for the bed. He double checked that it was still clean before taking a seat to wait. Fenton was a while longer in the kitchen before returning with some pasta for Taylor’s dinner.  
“Take your time,” he insisted as he handed it to him, “eat slowly.”  
“I will,” Taylor promised with a frown as he took it into his lap.  
Fenton turned to leave again and Taylor looked up.  
“Fenton?” he caught his attention, “could you turn the TV back up? He turned it down.”  
Fenton paused, but nodded before going to do so. Taylor was relieved when his ears finally felt normal again once it returned to normal volume. He wasn’t even sure if it were ‘normal’, it was just the volume he was used to. That done, Fenton left him to eat.  
It wasn’t as late as Taylor had thought. It hadn’t even passed 10pm. The man couldn’t have even been there three hours. It wasn’t long before Fenton came back for the empty bowl and to quickly say goodnight. Taylor knew he had to work the next day and so didn’t hold him up at all.  
When the light went off he got onto the bed and sat back against the headboard. He stared at CNN but he wasn’t listening to the stories. He needed to take some time out to just… sit and be quiet. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to be alone with his thoughts or not, but he knew he would be over the coming few days and he had to face what had happened eventually.  
But what had happened, really? Was he attacked? Violated? Or had he just fulfilled his new purpose? This was what he’d openly consigned himself to. While initially it had been a surrender to Fenton alone, Taylor knew – especially after what happened in July – that he might be used like this again. An occupational hazard, he tried to think of it as. Despite knowing that if he hadn’t officially ‘given in’ he probably would have been used anyway, he found himself somehow less… put out by it. There was no mistaking that what he’d gone through just those short hours earlier had been horrid, but the party had been much worse and even time with Eric didn’t let it compare. Even if the thought made him sick he would rather have gone through that again than face Eric’s whip.  
All he could hope for was that Fenton had got what he needed from it. That he’d finally earned enough money for him that he wouldn’t have to ‘work’ again for some time.   
The aches he felt from being strung upside down were going to prevent him from sleeping, so even once he’d managed to find a calm centre he remained sitting up for another few hours. Eventually he ended up falling asleep with his head awkwardly resting against the headboard.   
The following morning Fenton was quiet, and Taylor was tired so he didn’t mind. He took his breakfast as usual and let Fenton fit the muzzle.   
The basement didn’t look any different to what it had the day before. The only evidence of the night before being how sore Taylor still was. Mostly in his hips and shoulders from being stretched under his weight. Looking at the pulley he didn’t think he should be hurting as much as he was, but he wasn’t entirely sure how long he’d been hung.  
When Fenton came home he saw to affairs upstairs before coming to the basement with Taylor’s takeout. It was cold by the time he got it but it wasn’t the first time that had happened. Fenton also brought with him a bowl about half full of leftover Halloween candies. Fenton took up his usual seat on the chair to eat his own dinner as Taylor settled on the edge of the bed to start on his.  
“How are you today?” Fenton began, the first words he’d spoken that day.  
“Okay,” Taylor replied solemnly as he stirred the noodles with his fork.  
“Good,” Fenton nodded, mirroring his movement a little.  
“Did you make enough?” he asked without looking up, “was it worth it?”  
“Yes,” Fenton assured, “he paid well. The renovations and construction of the outer fence will be covered.”  
“Fence?” made Taylor look up.  
“I anticipate construction to begin in two weeks’ time,” Fenton went on as if he’d said nothing, and Taylor knew he wouldn’t get any further, “if all goes well we will relocate at the end of November.”  
“I wish I could help,” Taylor said absently as he got back to his food.  
“I appreciate that but it is unneeded,” Fenton almost mused.  
“I know.”  
There was a short moment of silence as they went back to eating.  
“How are you going to do it?” Taylor asked suddenly.  
“Do… what?” Fenton was curious.  
“Get me there,” Taylor looked up, “I mean I know Eric must have his ways of moving people, but…”  
“Don’t worry yourself about it,” Fenton insisted.  
“I don’t really have much else to worry about,” Taylor shrugged, “and it’s coming up. I just-“  
“We’ll discuss it closer to the time,” Fenton settled the matter, “we have a month yet. Not everything is set in stone.”  
Taylor took that to mean he simply hadn’t decided yet, and decided to drop the matter.


	117. Chapter 117

As November wore on the weather became a lot cooler. Fenton abandoned use of the air conditioner altogether which made the basement once again become stuffy and humidity heavy. The heater he’d taken upstairs earlier in the year didn’t make it down to the basement until week three, and Taylor once again found himself having to ask for cotton sheets on the bed. The last week also brought something else back to the basement – Eric paid a visit.  
He didn’t seem to intrude on purpose, but he and Fenton were in a heated discussion when they both appeared at the door on Saturday night. Taylor made sure to stay back on the bed out of their way as they came down to the floor and Fenton went to the rack.  
“I see he’s not even in leg irons anymore,” Eric’s disapproving gaze fell on him.  
“I assure you nothing will change with our arrangements,” Fenton ignored him, just as he often did Taylor.  
“I should hope not,” Eric didn’t seem to mind, “especially when we still have so much to offer one another.”  
He frowned as he looked Taylor over, Taylor just staring back in worry that he’d stay.  
“Speaking of which,” he took a step back, “what is this?”  
Fenton turned back, the leather collar in his hands. He looked between Taylor and Eric in confusion, Eric’s hand indicating his captive.  
“What do you mean?”  
“This!” Eric was exasperated, “a single chain is all you have him in?! What happened to all those late nights? Those meetings where you’d share your utmost fantasies? You have your canvas right here and you’re leaving it blank!”  
“What I do with him is my business,” Fenton scorned, stepping forward to hand him the collar, “if I wish to take my time, I will.”  
“You don’t have that much time, and you know it,” Eric’s voice lowered, and it made Taylor frown, “this will not last forever. You need to get your act together and get this show on the road.”  
Fenton gave Eric a side eye before moving to the stairs.  
“How much equipment do you have down here that you still haven’t used?!” Eric wasn’t moving even as Fenton started up, “haven’t I already shown you how easy it is? You’ve told me he’s assimilated. Why don’t you prove it?”  
Fenton paused on the stairs, his hand on the railing as if he’d stopped to think.  
“Why don’t you tell me what you really want?” Eric’s brow rose, “what you _really_ want, and we can get it out of the way right now.”  
Taylor’s eyes shot to Fenton. On the one hand, he agreed with Eric. He wanted to know Fenton’s endgame more than anything and he felt ready for the next step if that was what it took to get away from the mundane. On the other hand, he was still terrified of what it might be. If Fenton’s birthday had been any indication of what was to come, he hadn’t wanted to imagine what might yet be on the cards.  
Fenton turned slowly to look at Eric, completely missing Taylor’s eye. Taylor instantly felt what he had back in May come crashing down on him once again. He was their plaything, and they were going to do to him what they wanted and there was nothing he could do about it.  
“You know what I want,” Fenton’s gaze didn’t waver from his mentor.  
“Then let’s do it,” Eric insisted, “there’s nothing stopping us doing it right here right now. I’ve got the gear, let me go get it and we’ll get this done. You can get rid of him then and-“  
“No,” Fenton insisted.  
“Why not?” Eric scorned, evidently getting fed up.  
“It is illogical right now,” Fenton waved him off before turning back to head up the stairs again, “we will have all the time in the world in the other house. I will not force myself to rush into anything here.”  
Eric paused at that before giving Taylor another look. Taylor wasn’t sure what to think about the transaction and just stared back. With a short groan Eric rolled his eyes and followed Fenton back into the house.  
“I hope you have an actual room set up for it,” Taylor heard him say.  
“I plan to,” Fenton replied before the door closed behind them.  
The conversation continued but Taylor couldn’t make out any more of it. He stopped for a moment as he wondered what to do, before pulling himself further back onto the bed and hugging his legs. Eric was upstairs for another good half hour. It wasn’t until he left that Taylor got his dinner. As usual for a Saturday Fenton ate downstairs with him, but Taylor opted to wait until they were done before he started asking questions. He had the usual feeling of dread in his stomach before getting bad news and hadn’t wanted to risk missing out on dinner for it.  
“What did Eric mean?” he asked as he set his bowl aside.  
“In regards to what?” Fenton replied absently, still eating, “you’re aware there are activities I wish to partake in which I am yet to.”  
“No I know,” Taylor assured, “that’s not what I meant. I know I don’t have a say in that.”  
He flinched at the look Fenton gave him for that before lowering his eyes again.  
“I meant… he said you didn’t have that much time. He knows we’re moving, doesn’t he?”  
“He does,” Fenton relented, “he has been very helpful.”  
“Then what did he mean?” Taylor felt himself getting frustrated already.  
“Do not worry,” Fenton insisted most stubbornly, “all will be revealed in time. We need to focus on the move for now.”  
“How much time?” Taylor’s breathing shallowed, “when are you going to tell me what you have planned? What you really want?! I’ve already handed myself to you on a silver platter, there is no reason for secrets anymore.”  
He rubbed his chin as he tried to get his bearings and not lose his temper. He hadn’t since he’d broken the mirror and he didn’t want to start again now.  
“We both know I’m not going anywhere,” he couldn’t look Fenton in the eye, “and I’m already the kind of broken that can’t be fixed-”  
“You’re not broken.”  
“I just don’t see why you can’t share anything. About the house, about what you want to do…” he shook his head, “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me how. And if we’re on some kind of deadline…”  
“I want you to ignore Eric,” Fenton ordered suddenly, “he assumes I will cater to his automatic schedules. But I will do things at my own pace, in my own time, and not before. Once we have settled in we will focus more then.”  
“Why did he assume you’d ‘get rid of’ me?” Taylor finally looked up again, wanting to judge Fenton’s reaction to the question, “was it something you’d planned? You weren’t planning on keeping me forever?”  
Fenton paused, taking in his determined demeanour. For once Taylor could finally see him starting to relent.  
“Nothing lasts forever,” he began sullenly, “but I have already planned for our ends.”


	118. Chapter 118

“How so?” were the only two words Taylor could get out.  
He almost felt as though he were having an out of body experience. Despite the possibility of this conversation eventually taking place, and Taylor’s indecision on whether he should hope for it or not, the fact that it was here now was… incomprehensible.  
“There is a plot in the other yard where we will rest together.”  
Taylor felt himself almost choke on air. Fenton was planning to have him buried. Was Eric aware of this plan? He couldn’t have been, considering their earlier exchange. Did Taylor actually know something Eric didn’t, for once?  
“What about Eric?” he had to ask, “what if he doesn’t respect what you want? What if he takes me and sells me off and you don’t even-“  
“I will take care of it myself,” Fenton insisted.  
Taylor cut off with a gulp and his eyes went down.   
That was his confirmation that Fenton was someday planning to kill him. There was no other way he could be sure it would work in his favour. Unless he somehow expected Taylor to kill himself once he died, and maybe that would be a better end than having to go with Eric…  
“How do you know for sure?” he felt he had to confirm, “what if you get too old, and Eric has his ways…?”  
“I will take care of it,” Fenton reiterated, somewhat stubbornly, “I will make all necessary arrangements. I will take your life. I will grieve for you, then I will take my own.”  
Taylor’s hand shot to his mouth, worried he might lose the dinner he’d just downed.  
“It will be relatively painless,” Fenton shifted in his seat, working to reassure him now that he’d gotten an emotional response, “I will give you a local anaesthetic so you won’t even feel the cut.”  
“What cut?” Taylor figured he was knee deep now, he might as well keep going, “how are you planning to do it?”  
“I will sever your brachial artery,” Fenton went on solemnly, “it will be messy, but it will be fast and as I said – painless. You won’t have time to become nauseated. It should be over in about ten seconds.”  
“Oh God,” Taylor choked out, closing his eyes as he tried to clear the image from his mind.  
All he could see behind them was blood. His _own_ blood. Everywhere.  
“I chose it because I don’t want you to suffer,” Fenton’s tone became calming, reminiscent of a time when he was still just the family doctor, “it’s also a lot more dignified than anything Eric would offer.”  
Taylor choked out a chuckle at that. He didn’t doubt it for a second.  
“You understand, don’t you?”  
“I do,” Taylor nodded, “I do. I’m just… yeah. What kind of timeframe are you expecting?”  
He rubbed his right eye as he tried to force himself to keep to the facts. He could cry later when Fenton wasn’t around.   
“Do not worry,” Fenton assured, “it is years away. I just prefer to have a plan in mind. I’m also only telling you this because I want you to stop worrying about Eric.”  
Taylor hung his head at that. He was never going to stop worrying about Eric, as much as Fenton told him to. He knew Fenton didn’t have as much control over him as he thought he did.  
“Our relationship is between you and me, and it is only for us. Eric has no stake in it. He can threaten you as much as he wants, but at the end of the day you will come back to me. You are _mine_. You and I will go on and create a life together apart from him. We will be our own family.”  
Taylor’s eyes narrowed at that.  
“Family?” he felt his eye twitch, “ _family_?”  
“Yes,” Fenton insisted, “you are my family.”  
“This is not ‘family’,” Taylor’s eyes rose to him incredulously, “how could you possibly consider this… family? This is not family! A _slave_ is not family, it’s property!”  
He held Fenton’s eye as the doctor sat back in his seat.  
“You said so yourself that you wanted a slave. You can’t have both. A slave is something you keep hidden away in the basement while your real family carries on with their normal lives upstairs. There’s no comparison. A family needs _love_ , acceptance, understanding… we don’t have any of that, we can’t have any of that! You’ll never trust me again as long as I live because I keep screwing up! And all I’ve been trying to do is make you happy, but you won’t even let me do that! I will _never_ be family to you, and nothing will ever change that!”  
He stopped to catch his breath, suddenly surprised he hadn’t faced any backlash. Maybe it was coming later.   
“Fenton you need help,” his brow furrowed desperately, “you’re delusional. Isn’t there a colleague you could talk to? I mean not about this, obviously, but… I don’t know.”  
He fell back onto the bed a little as Fenton suddenly stood up.   
“I find your questioning of my integrity highly offensive,” he said in his usual calm tone, which only made it more unnerving.  
“I find your planning to kill me offensive,” Taylor’s adrenaline was still pumping, “it’s been almost a year and I haven’t even seen daylight. I haven’t touched grass, and I haven’t felt the wind. I _don’t_ want to die like this.”  
“You won’t,” Fenton was solemn, “I anticipate that you will experience all of that and more, but you have to wait. I wouldn’t think after all this time that two weeks would be so much to ask of you.”  
“Two weeks?” Taylor blinked trying to calm himself down at the same time.  
“The house will be ready in two weeks’ time,” Fenton gave a short nod, “I expect us to officially move in the weekend of the 14th of December. With Eric’s help, of course. I have most of this house packed already and we are only waiting on construction to finish. I will most likely spend the next couple of weeks moving housewares back and forth, so I will not be home as often.”  
Taylor nodded at that, more that he understood.   
“Once we are settled in we will perform the collaring ceremony. I expect you won’t have changed your mind by then?”  
“Of course not,” Taylor replied softly, the move suddenly making him a lot more nervous.  
In two weeks he was going to see the place that he would die.  
He watched as Fenton collected the empty food containers, still surprised that he wasn’t being hit for his outburst. Maybe Fenton was finally dealing with the fact that the life he’d chosen for Taylor was altogether a sore subject.  
“Get some sleep,” he insisted, “I have an early start tomorrow and will probably wake you.”  
Taylor kept his eyes down as Fenton walked to the stairs, pausing at the bottom and turning back.  
“You didn’t beg for your life,” he sounded somewhat confused, “despite the confirmation that it will end.”  
“What’s the point?” Taylor didn’t look up, “it’s not mine anymore.”  
Fenton paused at that before continuing up the stairs. Taylor took a deep breath once he was gone, biting his lip in an effort to hold everything in at least until the light went off for the night.


	119. Chapter 119

The following week and a half went surprisingly fast. Now that Taylor was nervous, even watching the clock on CNN seemed to make it go faster. Nothing changed between he and Fenton, and Fenton didn’t treat him any differently. For Fenton life carried on as usual while Taylor’s world was closing in on him yet again.  
Only this time with an unbridled sense of finality.   
He spent most of his days pacing the floor, and waiting by the air conditioner for the sound of Fenton’s car. When Fenton got home he would continue packing upstairs, and his sessions with Taylor reduced to a couple of times a week. Taylor knew he should have been thankful for the lapse between attacks but found himself just wishing Fenton would at least visit him outside of dinner hour.  
Sometimes he was even unusually quiet upstairs which had to mean he wasn’t even packing. Perhaps going through paperwork. Taylor knew what it sounded like when he was paying the bills and it wasn’t even that.  
The Tuesday saw Fenton start to pack the basement. Taylor found it symbolically significant considering it was the very day before his one year anniversary. The date coming up so fast had also left him solemn. He was back to barely saying a word but this time Fenton didn’t seem to care. He was too busy with his own business and left Taylor to his own devices. Taylor watched as he boxed everything from the shelves before starting to collect his bondage pieces. He emptied the lockers as well and Taylor even saw a few parts of the collection that he hadn’t before. None of them phased him as much as the move itself did. In the end they were left with only the ankle shackles, handcuffs and muzzle on the rack, and instead of carrying around a large set of keys Fenton took to leaving the key to the muzzle on the television beside the one for Taylor’s ankle. He only carried the one for the door with him now.  
Taylor spent a lot of time sitting by the mirror and staring into the closet. As long as nothing happened before the weekend, he’d never have to be locked inside it again. He’d already tortured himself with what Fenton might have at the new house – and maybe he wouldn’t even need anything, he had more than one sleep sack after all. All he had to do was buckle him up in one of those with the hood and he’d be terrified straight back into ultimate submission…  
He’d been hopeful that CNN would mark the year of his disappearance, convinced that it would barely even cross Fenton’s mind. He was sated with a short story on both the morning and evening bulletins. Having been hoping to see it he’d been readily sitting in the middle of the floor to wait and hadn’t missed a moment of either showing, regardless of them both being the same.  
“ _Despite the best efforts of the Tulsa Police Department and word of the investigation ongoing, the disappearance of Taylor Hanson remains one of the biggest mysteries of the year. Right up there with missing Malaysian Air Flight MH370,_ ” the reporters didn’t even seem worried anymore.  
“ _So how did it happen? Will he ever be found? Questions we assuredly won’t find answers to until either he or his vehicle are located…_ ”  
“They never found the car,” he frowned.  
But his eyes glued to the television when footage of both Natalie and Zac came on screen. It was old footage, from when they’d first covered the story and his wife and brother had been at the police station, and it was integrated with footage from the Hop Jam as the story moved on to what Isaac and Zac had decided to do post-Hanson.  
When it was over, even in the evening, Taylor went into a daze. Even if he had a television in the new house the chances were slim they’d run the story again. Perhaps for another four years until he could legally be pronounced ‘dead’. He wondered if he’d actually still be alive in four years’ time or if the prediction would just coincidentally be true.   
Either way, this might very well have been the last time he’d see his family’s faces.   
He wondered how Willa was doing. How much she’d grown over the past year. He wondered how much Viggo and Penny had grown also, having gotten a sneak peak at Ezra and River in the article in August. He wondered if Natalie, Penny and Viggo were still being medicated or if they’d somehow overcome what had driven them to it.   
He wondered how his parents were doing. They’d never been mentioned in the media, and neither had his other siblings. He wondered how his friends were doing. His colleagues that may as well have been family.   
He wondered if Natalie missed him even half as much as he missed her.  
Despite all of this, Taylor didn’t shed a tear that day. When he realised soon after Fenton turned off the light that night he opened his eyes again and frowned. Was this some kind of breakthrough? Was he finally going to be able to start letting go and moving on himself?  
He slept fitfully yet again. The following morning Fenton was awake early again to pack the final pieces of upstairs before coming down with Taylor’s breakfast. Taylor ate as usual while Fenton prepared some of the larger furniture in the basement for transport, including pulling the chair apart again. By the time Fenton had packed it up Taylor was done and Fenton retrieved the muzzle.  
“I apologise,” he said as he brought it back.  
“For what?” Taylor wasn’t sure.  
“I forgot our anniversary,” Fenton seemed almost upset – as upset as Taylor could ever remember seeing him, “I did mean to mark it but I have been so busy…”  
“It’s okay,” Taylor assured.  
“I will make it up to you,” Fenton assured, “next week. When I’ve had time to prepare.”  
“It’s okay,” Taylor repeated, waiting for him to fit the mask.  
Fenton paused as if wanting to say something else, before finally fitting the muzzle. When the buckles were finally locked Fenton rested his hand on Taylor’s head for a solemn moment before stepping away.  
Taylor remained on the bed as Fenton made his way upstairs, and listened as he left through the front door followed by his car pulling out of the driveway. He pulled himself up and made his way over to the air conditioner to listen to the traffic for a while before his eyes fell on the trunk.  
Taylor knew Fenton wasn’t planning to move it yet and had long since guessed it was going to be his mode of transport. He had wondered how they planned to get it out of the basement considering how heavy it was, but they had to have gotten it down there in the first place somehow.  
It wasn’t long before he started to pace again. The deadline was looming. It was already Thursday and Fenton had said the move would be happening on Sunday. Taylor wasn’t sure whether that meant that _he_ would be moved or not, but he figured Fenton would either keep him in the closet or the trunk as he and Eric moved back and forth.  
He only had two full days left in this basement. This room that had been his home every day for over a year now.  
He rubbed his shoulder as he moved back and forth, automatically kicking the ankle chain out of the way. When he passed the stairs for maybe the tenth time his left foot accidentally tripped on it. Surprised and wondering how he’d managed to, he looked down.  
The lock had slid over his heel.


	120. Chapter 120

Taylor panicked.  
He didn’t know what to do. Was this a chance? Or simply a test? Did Fenton know about it and decide to test his commitment by whether or not Taylor would try to run?   
But how would Fenton know? He hadn’t checked the ankle chain since the last time Taylor had tried to escape when it had been locked on for the final time.   
He looked up at the camera. It wasn’t on. A quick look at CNN told him he’d have a good half hour before it would be turned on again.  
Memories of the day before suddenly came to him. The sense of helplessness when he’d seen Natalie on the news. The not knowing how his family were doing. The wishing for what had to be the millionth time that he could do something about it.  
He looked up toward the door. Without the key he knew he wouldn’t get through, he just wasn’t strong enough. He could wait until Fenton got home and hope to somehow overpower him, but that wouldn’t be for another seven hours and if he had an opportunity before then he had to take it…  
He went to the air conditioner and slid his fingers into the gap. The majority of the unit was of course outside, but upon close inspection he figured he could break off the front panel and push the rest out. But was he really doing this? Was he _really_ going to risk everything?  
It didn’t take long before he realised everything he had to lose… he also had to gain.  
He kicked away the chain that he’d worriedly replaced on his ankle and for the first time walked over to the televisions. He still had twenty minutes before the camera would come on. He grabbed the key for the muzzle and fumbled with it – the first time he noticed his hands shaking – before managing to unlock and pull it free. He dropped it to the ground before grabbing the chair and taking it back to the air conditioner. It wasn’t long before he’d broken off the front and began using all of his strength to try and push the remaining unit out of the wall.  
Realising that simply pushing it wasn’t working he settled into using concise shoves. It only took five before he felt movement, and another three for it to break clear of its mounting. At first Taylor had to shield his eyes as the sunlight penetrated through but knowing his timeframe was wasting away made him pull the chair closer and climb up toward the hole.   
A year earlier there would have been no way he’d fit through. Now he found it almost easy. He put his head and shoulders through and spread his hands on the concrete driveway to use as leverage to pull himself up. It was a lot of work but he didn’t even get a scratch before making it to his hands and knees and pulling himself to his feet.  
Again he had to shield his eyes, despite seeing that it was actually overcast. The ground was wet as though it had been raining but it wasn’t cold enough to freeze over yet. To his left he saw a gate which must have led to Fenton’s backyard, and to his right the fence made it halfway down the house before turning into picket. Fenton’s side was a plain concrete driveway, the neighbour’s a well-kept hedge. He made his way toward it as his mind raced for what to do. He knew from listening that there was rarely traffic in this street at this time of morning and even the postman didn’t come until about midday.  
When he made it to the corner of the house – actually a creamy colour - he paused as he carefully looked around. There was neither a person nor car in sight. To the right of Fenton’s property was a vacant lot, across the road just seemed to be normal houses, and the house to the left now that he could see around the hedge was a red brick. Suddenly very conscious that he was still very naked he covered himself with his hands and made for the picket fence. He didn’t want to cross the road if he didn’t have to. He quickly managed to step over it (the most physical exertion he’d had since he could remember) and rush up to the front patio. The front door was solid and red and he knocked on it loud and fast.  
“HELLO?!” he yelled, his panic suddenly intensifying at the thought of having to face a stranger so suddenly, “PLEASE, I NEED HELP! PLEASE SOMEONE HELP ME! HELLO?!”  
He paused after a moment – sure it wasn’t as long as it had seemed – and looked around again in worry. He didn’t know for sure that anyone was home and knew he might have to try a few houses. His attention was caught by a curtain moving in a house across the street before he suddenly heard footsteps and the sound of a latch moving on the door.  
“Hello!” his voice lowered only slightly, “please, help me!”  
The door finally opened revealing a tired middle-aged woman in a floral robe with curly red hair. Taylor returned his knocking hand to covering himself.  
“Please, I need help,” he already hoped she wouldn’t just think he was crazy, “my name is Taylor Hanson, and I’ve been held captive by your neighbour James Fenton.”  
He’d been planning the speech for so long that his voice shook as the words came out.  
“Please could you call the police?”  
The woman had seemed to suddenly wake up somewhere near the start of his speech. Without a word she hurriedly held the door open and shooed him inside. Taylor took a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure no one else had seen him before following her in. She closed and bolted the door behind him before quickly looking out of the window.  
“I don’t think I was followed,” Taylor tried to assure her, “please, could I use your phone?”  
“The power’s out,” she replied, still looking outside, “we use cordless. My husband has taken our only cell phone to work with him.”  
Taylor felt a shiver run up his spine. He hadn’t expected that particular obstacle.  
“What else can we-?”  
“I expect my husband will be home soon,” she finally turned back, hugging herself, “you can wait in the garage until then. We can take you to the police station.”  
“You could?” Taylor’s brow rose, “oh thank you, thank you!”  
“Least we could do,” she shrugged, eyes going to the nearby sofa.  
Taylor followed them, finding a dark blue kimono strewn over the backrest. He quickly reached for it and pulled it on. The material – soft though he knew it was – felt scratchy against his skin and almost uncomfortable. But it was covering him and that was all that mattered.  
“Follow me,” she gave him an awkward glance before leading the way through a doorway to the left.  
Taylor wiped his eyes that were already starting to tear as he followed her. She collected a flashlight from a small table in the hall and used it to light the floors for him. With the amount of sunlight coming in from the main room he could easily see his way through but he didn’t want to say anything in case she somehow changed her mind.  
They came to a door in the hall which she struggled to open for a moment before leading him down three short stairs.  
“Over there in the closet is a backup light switch,” she shone the torch across a solid polished floor, “could you flip it for me?”  
“Sure,” he quickly followed the light to a small doorway on the other side of the garage.   
Inside he put his hand to the wall trying to find the switch before he heard the woman’s footsteps come closer so he could use the light. The sound was followed by a loud metallic clang and the familiar clink of a padlock closing shut.


	121. Chapter 121

Taylor could see the bars in the torchlight, even as she turned to go back to the door.  
“What’s going on?” the panic was evident in his voice before the garage lights suddenly flickered on.  
The bars were barely a foot from his face and the sudden sight of them made him flinch backward. As he moved he tripped on something small and square and had to lean against the wall to stop himself falling.  
“No,” he choked out, “no no no no no…”  
The bars looked distinctly like the cell doors of an old prison. So did the lock. To his right within arm’s reach were two beds – one at shoulder height one at knee – and the ‘cell’ was only as long as them. There was a sink in the back corner and Taylor soon realised the box he’d fallen over was actually a portable toilet.  
As a shadow moved in his peripheral he grabbed onto the bars and pulled himself to the door.  
“Please help me,” his voice came out small and broken as he stared through the bars at the woman in the centre of the room, “please don’t do this. If you’re involved somehow I don’t know how you are, but I swear I won’t tell anyone if you _please_ just let me go.”  
The woman remained quiet, just staring back at him as he clung hopefully to the white bars. After a moment she took a few steps forward and he wasn’t sure if he should step back or not. Figuring the cell door was a kind of barrier he managed to stand his ground.  
Until she got close enough that he could properly look into her eyes for the first time. His brow furrowed and he instantly began to feel nauseated.  
“It’s you, isn’t it?” he barely got out, “you’re the one who kept coming to see me.”  
She smiled. But it wasn’t a normal smile, it was… unnerving. Taylor felt the same shiver run down his spine again and he took a step back from the door.  
Again without a word she turned and headed for the door. Without even looking back she made her way up the stairs and closed the door behind her. To her credit she left the lights on.  
It wasn’t a garage. Taylor didn’t know why it had taken him so long to realise. But now that he finally had a chance to focus on where he was he pulled himself back to the door to have a look around.  
He couldn’t see the wall the cell was on, and the wall to the left was brick just like the house. Various rings and bolts were strategically placed along it all the way to the door which led into the house. To his right was enough spare wall to accommodate the door of both his cell and the one across from him, the other with a solid door as opposed to barred. The wall that housed the other cell had a large trunk at the base – not dissimilar to Fenton’s but steel instead of wooden – and above the trunk was a similar rack but a lot more well-stocked. Just to the left of Taylor’s door he could see the edge of a large chair covered in strapping, and hanging on the back of the door was a familiar black latex costume.  
He pulled himself away from the door and back into the cell. There was no light in there aside from what came from the fluorescents in the main room so the back of the cell was in shadow. Taylor almost felt as though he’d walked out of Fenton’s basement and straight into jail.  
“This isn’t happening,” he whined softly to himself, clutching at his hair as he started pacing.  
He had to still be in the basement. This was only a nightmare. Pretty soon he was going to wake up with Fenton beside him and they’d have sex and then breakfast as usual. Things would go back to normal. They’d move house in three days’ time and he definitely would not be punished for this.  
He stopped in his tracks as he wondered exactly how this woman fit into their group. Would she actually _tell_ Fenton that he was there? Who was her ‘husband’? _Was she Lacey?_  
He’d pictured Lacey to be younger than him but he couldn’t be sure. He was only guessing. Maybe her ‘husband’ was her owner. But then why was she free to walk the house? It didn’t make sense. Maybe this woman was actually the dominant member of the household and her husband was the slave. Would it make sense that he was at work? But why would he have their cell phone? Had she only lied to get him down there?   
Taylor went to the door to check the lock. It was a simple large bolt with a large standard padlock. The hinges to the door were all solid, and he knew if he couldn’t even get through Fenton’s internal door there was no way he’d get through this.  
The wall to the left was painted brick and rendered. In fact all three walls were. If this had once actually been a garage, a lot of work had been put into it to make it the prison it was now. Taylor went so far as to knock on the back wall just to make sure that it was solid and he couldn’t break it down.   
He went back to the door. In the back of his mind he knew there would realistically be nothing within reach that would help him, but he had to check all the same. He figured if he reached through the bars just enough he might be able to reach one of the straps hanging from the nearby chair, but he could see how well they were attached and knew that his strength was not up to the task.  
He was pulled from his thoughts by a muffled sound. His eyes shot to the right, but nothing had changed. Getting the sudden and horrible feeling that someone may be in the other cell he attempted to clear his throat.  
“Hello?” he called warily.  
There was no answer, and the noise didn’t come again. With the other cell door being solid he could only see through a small slit at eye level but all he could see was black. There couldn’t have been any light inside.  
“Is anyone there?” he tried again, his voice not exactly exuding confidence.  
Nothing.   
He leant his head against the bars in defeat, hair that had come loose from the ponytail falling in his face. He couldn’t stop shivering.  
She had to tell Fenton. Taylor had no idea what to expect from this. Perhaps another broken ankle? Somehow he already had the feeling that broken bones might be the least of his worries. At least once Eric found out. Eric was going to have a field day with this.  
He choked a little as he tried to hold back tears before realising there was no reason to and letting them go. Fenton was going to be mad either way, it didn’t matter if he found Taylor upset at this point. Eric simply wouldn’t care. Both would use it as an excuse to hurt him but they’d probably do it anyway.  
He eventually slid down the bars and sat onto his hip, using only his hands on the bars to hold himself up. He was sure more now than ever that the fight had gone. This had truly proven that it was forever, and he would never get away from them. He would never leave Fenton. These people were far too organised, and even if he managed to call for help again he had no idea how many of Fenton’s neighbours might be in their little club. How many of them may have dungeons even more elaborate than this one.  
Once again, all he had to do was await his fate.  
He briefly considered taking up one of the beds. He knew it would take all day for Fenton to finish work, at least if he hadn’t checked the camera feed. But he didn’t know when this woman’s husband was going to be home.  
In the end he decided he was too exhausted to move and just closed his eyes against the bars.


	122. Chapter 122

His eyes opened when the door did, which must have been at least an hour or two later. He stared up at it as the woman came down the stairs with the same smug look on her face as she’d left with.  
“Please just talk to me,” Taylor begged barely audibly, “tell me what you’re going to do?”  
She stared back as she stepped aside, another shadow appearing in the doorway. Taylor’s heart leapt into his chest as he quickly assumed Fenton had come to collect him. His heart almost stopped altogether when it was Eric who came through instead.  
“Well isn’t this a pleasant surprise,” he was grinning ear to ear as he hit the floor.  
Taylor immediately pushed himself back from the door. He knew he had nowhere to go but his instincts told him to regardless. Eric stopped at the steel trunk and casually lifted the lid.  
“Are you ready?” he asked almost absently.  
Taylor wasn’t sure if he was talking to him or not. But Eric soon dropped the lid again and kept walking. Taylor had managed to quickly pull himself up onto the bottom bed and back himself against the wall before Eric made it to the cell door.  
“That’s no way to greet an old friend now, is it?” he taunted from the other side.  
Taylor pulled his legs in, just staring back at him wide-eyed. Eric sighed with a smile when he realised he wasn’t getting the response he wanted.  
“Welcome to my humble abode,” he locked eyes with their captive, “I see you already met my wife… again.”  
Taylor’s brow only furrowed. _Eric was Fenton’s neighbour._ Why had he never even thought of that? Eric came and went so much that it made sense, but Taylor had always assumed he’d driven either way. Yet somehow he’d never known what Eric’s car had sounded like…  
“Surprised?” Eric’s brows rose, “I don’t blame you. Jim made a point of keeping things from you for a reason. You know he’s not going to be happy about this.”  
Taylor’s eyes lowered and he pulled his legs in closer. He didn’t need Eric’s reminder. But he was starting to feel hopeful that he wouldn’t open the cell door considering he hadn’t yet.  
Eric chuckled and stood to his right a little where he could see Taylor better.   
“Not very talkative? I understand that. You have a hell of a ride coming your way if I have anything to do with it,” Eric was only making Taylor’s shivers increase, “I’d better go and call Jim before he finds out you’re gone, if he hasn’t already…”  
Taylor caught his last smile before he stepped away from the door and Taylor couldn’t see him any further. He heard his footsteps leave the dungeon and the door close behind him. He expected the light to be turned off but it stayed on. Taylor knew it had to be early afternoon by now and that if Fenton had already seen the video feed he’d have to be panicking by now. Taylor couldn’t stop himself feeling guilty at the worry he knew he’d be causing. Not only would Fenton be worried about whether Taylor was okay, he had the added worry about whether or not he’d actually made it to the authorities.  
But then perhaps he had people – like Eric’s wife – watching the house. Maybe even if he hadn’t chosen this house to approach he would have been swept up soon after anyhow. He still had no idea how many people were involved and he was always sure it was more than he could or would process.  
At this stage Taylor wouldn’t be surprised to find out that Eric had the cops involved either. There had to be some reason he’d gotten away with this for so long. Unlike Fenton’s dungeon, Taylor could tell just from the smell that he was by far not the first person to ever grace this cell. He was also beginning to feel more and more sure that he was definitely not alone in there.  
After Eric’s visit he didn’t feel confident enough to try and call out again. He also didn’t know that if there were anyone there, they actually would be able to respond. He’d certainly been in situations where he couldn’t have replied to anyone if he’d had anyone to talk to. Knowing how strict Eric was he knew it was unlikely anyone down here would have the ‘freedom’ he’d been graced with. He even wondered why Eric hadn’t come into the cell to restrain him further, but figured he might wait for instructions from Fenton for it. It hadn’t stopped him before of course but… this was different. It was unexpected.  
Taylor rubbed his face with his hands as he tried to calm his mind down. He had a long wait if it was going to be until Fenton usually got home from work. He guessed if Eric got a hold of him he could continue on his day as usual and just raise hell when he got back. Fenton rarely let anything – even Taylor’s sickness – get in the way of his work, and Taylor knew he hadn’t had a single day off since he’d been with him.   
He quickly decided he needed a distraction and pulled himself from the bed again. He focused on the cell across from his, trying to see where the darkness wasn’t just shadow and may have actually been inside the cell. There wasn’t even a small gap beneath the door. Aside from the slit at eye level it may as well have been sealed air tight.   
“I know you’re there,” his voice came out quieter than he’d thought it would, “I know I didn’t imagine it.”  
He took hold of the bars again as he listened carefully for any kind of response. He wasn’t sure what kind he was waiting for so he waited as long as he felt he could.  
“I also know you might not actually be able to say anything right now,” he added, “but if you could hit something or rattle a chain? Please just…”  
He grit his teeth, trying not to get side-tracked with his own situation already.  
“Just let me know I’m not insane.”  
When some more time went by without a response, he leant his head against the bars again and tried to close his eyes. He couldn’t handle it for very long and had to open them again. He didn’t trust that Eric wouldn’t have a secret way in and use it purely to scare him.  
When he suddenly heard movement again, his eyes darted to the cell.  
“I heard you,” his voice broke, still unable to see anything, “I heard you.”  
He pulled back from the bars and sat on the bed again, this time putting his head in his hands. He’d wanted to reassure whoever was in there, but he didn’t even know where to start. How could he offer hope when he’d just accepted for himself that there wasn’t any left? How could he lie and tell them there might be a way out? He didn’t know anything about them, aside from the fact they’d been subjected to Eric’s whim for an undetermined amount of time. Taylor knew for himself that any amount of time with Eric was far too long.  
Maybe he’d already cut out their tongue. He wouldn’t put that past him.  
Running his fingers through his hair he could feel that his ponytail had come loose and he pulled the tie out altogether. He couldn’t help but think of how Fenton wouldn’t approve but figured he might either be lenient if Taylor fixed it himself, or he might just be more preoccupied with the fact that he wasn’t home.  
Taylor could hardly believe how much he wished he was home right now. Waiting for Fenton to get back from work and ignore him for a few hours as usual before dinner. Maybe he wouldn’t even be going home again at all. Maybe Fenton would decide to take him straight to the new house from here.


	123. Chapter 123

Taylor was still on the bed when the door opened again. This time Fenton was the first person through it. Upon first sight of him Taylor shot to his feet.  
“Fenton!” he took hold of the bars, barely noticing Eric’s appearance behind him, “please, please _please_ get me out of here! I know I screwed up, and I am so _so_ sorry. You can punish me however you want to I swear, just _please_ take me home!”  
Fenton stopped a few feet away, purposely out of his reach though Taylor wasn’t trying. Eric came to his side.  
“What did I tell you?” he said into his ear, “consequences still mean nothing to him.”  
Taylor instantly shook his head.  
“No, they do, I swear,” he insisted, not wanting to argue with Eric but seeing Eric controlling Fenton as the worse evil, “I don’t know what I was thinking, it just happened! I panicked!”  
“And ran,” Eric added for him, “this is why you can’t be lenient. You can’t let your guard down even for a _second_. How long do you really think you’re capable of controlling him?”  
Taylor frowned, taking in Eric’s tone. There was something else going on here. Fenton wasn’t just being berated.  
“I don’t know,” Fenton admitted, the first words he’d spoken.  
“What’s going on?” Taylor’s eyes darted between them, “why does anything have to change? This isn’t something I’m ever going to do again! Just take me home!”  
“I need to fix the wall first,” Fenton’s eyes met his for the first time, and Taylor recoiled under the glare.  
“Or…” here came Eric’s alternative, “we can get this over and done with now. You can finish up with him however you want down here, and you can say your inevitable goodbyes once and for all.”  
Taylor’s face lost colour. What had he done? Had he really pushed Fenton that far?  
“I already promised him,” Fenton turned toward Eric and away from Taylor, “that his end would be quick and painless.”  
“What do you call a bullet?” Eric scorned.  
“No,” Taylor was trying to stay quiet but he couldn’t hold it in, “no no no, he did promise! He told me exactly what would happen and where!”  
“Circumstances change,” Eric said a little too matter-of-factly.  
“What is he talking about?” Taylor asked Fenton’s back, “why does he want you to get rid of me? What changed?! I thought we went over this!”  
“Think about it,” Eric told Fenton, “I have all the time in the world. You don’t. We can move him straight from here if you decide to take him with you but I am formally advising against it.”  
“I understand,” Fenton assured, before Eric gave Taylor a last glance and left.  
There was an awkward moment of silence as Taylor rushed for something to say.  
“I know that what I have to say has never really mattered to you,” he began nervously, “but I am begging you… at _least_ let me defend my life.”  
He got no response, and his breathing started to heavy.  
“Fenton please,” he really was begging now, “I know you have dreams of us having a life together. There’s no reason we can’t still do that. I swear I would much prefer having a life with you than having no life at all, and I would not do anything further to jeopardise that.”  
He paused as Fenton shifted his weight, slowly working on turning back toward him. Taylor was waiting for him to at least confirm or deny Taylor’s fears but he continued to say nothing.   
“Don’t let the past year be a waste,” he tried another angle, “I know you’ve been setting me up for something, and it’s not death. I was working to be perfect. For _you_. And I wanted to be, I still want to be…”  
He shook his head, unsure if he were even making sense anymore.  
“Just please don’t give up on me.”  
He leant his head on the bars again, knowing he’d have to wait until Fenton was ready. Maybe he was waiting for Taylor to be quiet. It wouldn’t be the first time, and Taylor already worried he was overstepping his boundaries. Perhaps the act of begging for his life would actually shorten it.  
“Why did you do it?”  
Taylor sniffled a little as he looked up again to see Fenton had finally turned to him. He was waiting for an answer.  
“You said you were going to kill me,” Taylor shrugged a little, his voice barely making it out.  
“But that would have been years from now,” Fenton frowned.  
“I didn’t know,” Taylor cringed, desperately holding himself back from arguing the fact that Fenton never told him anything he didn’t have to, “I just don’t want to die.”  
He remained still and silent as Fenton finally made his way toward him. The man slipped his hand through the bars and gently took hold of the side of Taylor’s face, sliding his thumb over Taylor’s cheek where he knew tears had fallen. Taylor closed his eyes at the touch hardly believing how comforting it felt to him. He could almost imagine being back in the basement and none of this having happened.   
Fenton’s hand moved to his head and began to stroke his hair. Taylor’s breathing calmed as he felt the air stand still. This was the most true affection Fenton had ever shown him and he’d learnt to lean on it and use it to centre himself. It seemed an age before Fenton pulled his hand away and Taylor looked up again in worry that he’d leave.  
“I loved you,” Fenton frowned, before he did turn to leave.  
“No,” Taylor choked out, grabbing the bars tighter as his chest seized up, “no, no, NO! Don’t use past tense! Fenton please!”  
He stared after him as Fenton made his way to the stairs.  
“JAMES!” he called desperately.  
Fenton paused in his stride. He knew the significance of that. Taylor had never called him by his first name before, despite Fenton’s initial request.  
“James please,” he begged, “don’t leave me here. Don’t leave me to Eric!”  
But despite his pause, Fenton continued up the stairs.  
“NO!” Taylor yelled after him before the door closed.  
Taylor hit the bars with his hands as he felt himself start to lose control. He paced the cell with his hands in his hair again as he tried to process what had just happened. Had Fenton resigned him to death at the hands of Eric? Had he gone to contemplate his options without Taylor’s distraction?   
_Would Taylor ever see him again?_  
He fell to his knees beside the bed, feeling himself shake as he took hold of the thin mattress with his right hand. He felt sick but knew it was his nerves. If they really were going to kill him here – even if it were after Fenton ‘finished with him’ as Eric suggested – at least he wouldn’t have to worry about being sick for much longer.  
He wiped at his eyes before giving up and burying them in the mattress. Consoling himself for Fenton’s sake didn’t matter anymore.  
For the first time in months, Taylor prayed.


	124. Chapter 124

Taylor lost time in Eric’s cell. He’d never appreciated Fenton’s schedule more than when he realised it must have been well after dark but the light was still on. With no access to even a sliver of daylight, a clock, or anything to clue him in as to the time, he had no idea of when he should try to sleep.   
He couldn’t imagine himself sleeping at all down here, but that wasn’t the point.  
He didn’t hear anything from the other cell. He did end up on the bottom bed when his back started to hurt from sitting against it. He distracted himself for a time by plucking threads from the mattress with his long-weakened fingernails but eventually closed his eyes. Visions of Eric pulling a gun on him already plagued him but he couldn’t push them away. Not when his fate was so up in the air. Despite his eyes being closed he didn’t sleep, and they readily shot open when he heard the door unlock.  
At first he didn’t move, but he recognised Eric’s footfalls and knew avoiding him wasn’t going to work a second time. So he pulled himself up in time to hear Eric lift the lid on the steel trunk yet again.  
“Are you ready?”  
With a frown, and remembering him asking that before, Taylor leant forward to look through the shadows from the bars. He was just in time to see Eric set the lid against the wall and pull a silver pistol from his belt. Before he could even guess that it was the very gun that might take his life, Eric fired a shot into the trunk.  
Taylor jolted. In the time it took him to realise what had happened, Eric had returned the gun to his belt and made for the stairs to call to his wife.  
Taylor meanwhile fell to his hands and knees on the floor and rushed for the portable toilet. As soon as he lifted the lid, he hurled. It took him some time to calm himself down and by the time he was able to, Eric’s wife had come down.  
“Don’t mind him,” he heard Eric scoff, “I’ve finished this one off. Let’s get her out to the yard before she goes rigor.”  
Taylor leant his elbow on the toilet, covering his mouth as he looked over to where they were. Eric was moving some plastic sheeting in the trunk as they prepared to lift the body out. Unable to pull his eyes away he watched as they twisted the ends together to make it essentially a plastic bag before they both lifted it from the trunk. It took Taylor sighting the blood pooling in the bottom of the bag for him to lean into the toilet and lose more fluid of his own.  
This time when he was done, Eric and his wife had gone. He fell back against the wall and put a hand to his forehead as he tried to calm his stomach down. He couldn’t concentrate on what had happened, he had to focus on something else. He soon set his eyes on a dark stain on the mattress across from him and worked to try and distinguish what shape it might have been. From one angle it looked like it could have been a shark. From another it might have been a plane. He tried to think of some alternatives, but knowing that it was most likely a blood stain itself only served to remind him of the bloodied bag.  
He hadn’t even been able to pay attention to what the girl had looked like – all he’d seen had been black. Perhaps she’d been in a cat suit. Maybe wearing a hood. He didn’t remember seeing hair or any visible skin. He immediately regretted not paying further attention despite his uneasy stomach. All she would ever be to him was ‘the girl in the trunk’.  
He rubbed his eyes before looking to the sink in the corner. He wondered if the water actually ran. Seeing it as a further distraction he pulled himself onto his knees and crawled over to it before kneeling up to test the tap. The pipes groaned, which told him there had to be water in there somewhere, before a dirty sludge dropped into the sink followed by clear water. He figured there must have been a blockage but he had what he wanted. He quickly washed his hands and face before washing the horrid taste from his mouth. When he was done he turned it off and fell back to sit against the wall again.   
He could be the next person to be dragged out of this place in a plastic bag.  
He took a few deep breaths as he tried to contain the thought, but once he had it he couldn’t get rid of it. Eric wanted him dead. There was nothing to stop him from doing it even while Fenton was at work. Fenton wouldn’t even have to know about it.   
His head shot to the door as he heard it open again. Eric stepped through and Taylor felt himself brace.   
This could be it. This could be the moment it all ended. Taylor could clearly see the pistol still in Eric’s belt as he strode toward the cell.  
“Come here,” he demanded as he stopped at the door.  
Taylor just stared back wide eyed, barely able to shake his head. His legs wouldn’t move if he wanted them to. He didn’t want them to.  
Eric waited for a moment before rolling his eyes.  
“Fine. Here.”  
Taylor flinched back as Eric threw something into the cell. It took him a moment to realise it was a bottle of water he’d carried in. Taylor stared as it slowly rolled across the floor and came to a stop when it hit his foot.  
Eric didn’t bother to wait for a response and simply turned to leave again. Unable to handle the suspense Taylor quickly cleared his throat.  
“What’s happening?” he had to ask.  
He grit his teeth nervously when Eric looked over his shoulder.  
“Where’s Fenton?” he added, eyes darting warily.  
“He’s home, in bed. It’s late,” Eric scorned, as if Taylor should have known, “we’ll deal with you in the morning.”  
“How?” Taylor blinked, his eyes on the gun.  
Eric saw where he was looking, and pulled the gun from his belt. Taylor’s back straightened against the wall as his earlier fears came hurtling back.   
It took him a moment to realise Eric was grinning at him. When he finally made eye contact Eric spun the pistol in his hand before replacing it to his belt.  
“I’ll see you in the morning,” he mused before turning to leave again.  
Taylor stared after him until the door closed before hitting his head back against the wall. He could feel himself sweating heavily from the brief exchange.   
He waited until he got his breath back before reaching for the bottle of water. He quickly gulped down half of it before he stopped when he began to feel dizzy. He knew it was because he hadn’t eaten that night and because he’d probably thrown up his breakfast or anything else that may have been left in there. Hoping the water would help he replaced the cap before pulling himself over to the bed again. He knew he wouldn’t sleep, but he had to rest while Eric was away.   
He finally fell onto his side and closed his eyes again. It was so stuffy in the room that it wasn’t too cold at all, and the kimono acted as a blanket in itself. No longer used to even light clothing it was keeping him well and truly warm.  
Taylor didn’t sleep, but he managed to turn the switch off for just a little while.


	125. Chapter 125

When Taylor heard the door open again, presumably come morning, he sat up just in time for the lights to go out.  
He froze on the bed. What would Eric possibly be doing in the dark? He could hear him walking around, and Taylor shifted himself so he was sitting back into the corner of the bed just in case Eric was going to use the dark to attack him somehow.  
As he listened carefully to Eric’s footsteps, he soon heard a lock being undone and a heavy bolt sliding across. It wasn’t his cell – it was the one opposite.  
“Breakfast time my dear,” was met with a soft whimpering, and even in the dark Taylor covered his mouth with his hand.  
He knew he wouldn’t be able to see her, and she wouldn’t be able to see him. The fact that Eric kept her cell so darkened had to be a form of torture in itself. Taylor couldn’t see the point of it, but he also couldn’t think clearly with Eric so close. All his instincts screamed at him to _run_.  
He heard Eric go into the cell and the familiar sound of buckles on leather being undone. The entire time the girl was moaning unintelligibly. Taylor wondered if she were actually being punished for something or if she were just a new recruit Eric had brought in.   
“Open wide…”  
Taylor began to feel his eyes water yet again at the sounds of the girl both struggling to breathe and to swallow whatever Eric was giving her. Among the sounds he was sure he heard pleas for both mercy and release which of course went unheeded. He wiped his eyes again as he heard Eric finishing up before the grunt of steel on steel echoed through the dungeon and Taylor heard yet another familiar sound… Eric’s belt buckle.  
“Oh Jesus,” he cringed under his breath and tried to cover his ears.  
The sounds were muffled but he still heard them. He could tell the girl had been gagged again and must have been held down so tight that she had no way of resisting. Eric enjoyed himself. He seemed to take a lot more pleasure in this rape than he had with Taylor. But it had been so long ago that Taylor couldn’t be sure anymore. Maybe he just hadn’t noticed.  
It was over in minutes and Taylor heard Eric packing up. He leant back against the wall on the bed again as he listened intently before the heavy cell door finally closed and locked and Eric’s footsteps made their way across the room.  
The light came on. Taylor blanched and covered his eyes for a moment until they could get used to it again, during which time Eric had made his way back. Taylor’s eyes shot to the cell door when he heard Eric slip a key into the lock.  
“Your turn,” he caught Eric’s eye from the corner of the doorway.  
“Wait!” Taylor flinched back further on the bed as the door opened, “what do you mean?!”  
Eric stepped through and Taylor saw a roll of duct tape in his hand. He could feel himself practically melding with the wall behind him but he knew he wasn’t getting any further away.  
“Come on,” Eric scoffed, grabbing for his right ankle.  
“What’s going on?!” Taylor’s panic was back with a vengeance, “where’s Fenton? What are you doing?!”  
Eric ignored him as he took hold of both of his ankles and roughly taped them together. Taylor worked to keep himself balanced on the mattress as Eric moved up to his calves.  
“Eric please!” Taylor lost his grip on the bed and slipped down onto his back, “please don’t do this! What do you want? I’ll do anything!”  
“What exactly is it that you think I’m going to do?” Eric stopped to ask.  
Taylor was startled by the sudden question and couldn’t think of a response in time.  
“Please don’t kill me,” he shook his head, before Eric took hold of the tape on his ankles and used it to pull him from the bed.  
“NO DON’T!” Taylor cried out, trying to deflect Eric with his hands.  
Eric appeared to have expected it and took advantage in order to tape his wrists together. By this stage Taylor’s fear was winning out over his fight and he could already tell he’d lost.  
He fell back onto the floor as Eric finished up, unable to grab onto anything before Eric used his ankles to drag him out into the middle of the floor.  
“Please don’t do this,” Taylor’s eyes welled once again as Eric stepped around him, “I’ll do anything to keep him happy, I swear. I just want to go home with him.”  
In his peripheral Eric was dragging the chair back toward him. He set it to one side before bending down to take hold of Taylor’s shoulders. He pulled him up so that he was sitting before Taylor realised what he was doing and shifted his weight so Eric could easily sit him into the chair.  
He sat with his head down as he raced for something significant to say, while Eric doubled the tape around his wrists and banded his thighs to hold his hands down. He then moved up to Taylor’s chest taping his arms to his sides as Taylor just waited for him to be done.  
Eric then affixed straps from the chair around his legs, waist and chest so that he had to sit up straight. When he was done he ruffled Taylor’s hair before moving over to shelving on the wall beside Taylor’s cell which he hadn’t seen before.  
“Jim will be here soon,” he informed as he took another sheet of plastic, “then the fun can begin!”  
Taylor already felt sick again as he watched Eric take the sheeting to the trunk and once again line it. What he didn’t expect, however, was for a purple stuffed animal to fall out of it as Eric rummaged.  
His eyes locked to it. To say it looked familiar would be an understatement, but Taylor didn’t want to acknowledge what seeing it here actually meant…  
When Eric was done he saw where it had fallen and stooped to pick it up.  
“That’s my daughter’s,” Taylor finally found his voice, eyes still on the toy.  
Eric paused to look at it.  
“That belongs to Willa. Was she here?”  
“She was,” Eric replied, an intrigued look on his face as he held it up.  
“Did you hurt her?” Taylor’s voice broke yet again with his worry.  
Eric smirked, which only made Taylor’s heart beat faster.  
“Did you hurt her?” he tried again, “I didn’t have that with me, it was in my car. What did you do with my car?!”  
“I didn’t do anything,” Eric scorned, throwing the toy back into the trunk and closing the lid, “if you’ll recall, I didn’t know of Fenton’s plan until I found you myself.”  
He stooped to the floor behind the chair as Taylor bit his lip. He couldn’t help but think of Eric’s threat to Natalie and wondering if he’d accidentally crossed that line too. But if they were going to kill him, they had no reason to go after her…  
Taylor jumped as Eric suddenly taped his mouth from behind. He held his hair with his left hand as he wound the tape a few times around his head before biting it off and letting his hair go.  
“For what it’s worth, I never touched your daughter. My wife took good care of her.”  
Taylor breathed only slightly easier at that as Eric stepped around him again.  
“And as for your family? Well… they may not know where you’ve been, but I can personally guarantee that they will stumble on where you end up.”


	126. Chapter 126

Taylor was again frozen. Not that he could move far if he wanted to. He could feel himself shaking, but he was no longer sure if it were fear… or anger.  
“Maybe I’ll leave one of your feet in the yard for your children to find,” Eric was enjoying the taunt, “maybe I’ll leave your severed head behind the back wheel of your wife’s car.”  
Taylor gasped in a breath as Eric took hold of his hair again.  
“Is anything I’m saying getting through to you?” his voice lowered in his ear, “do you understand the game yet? Jim has his plans, of course, and he will certainly want you buried on his estate for… closure, I guess? But there’s nothing at all to stop me from digging you up afterward.”  
He roughly let go of his hair and made his way to the door. When Taylor’s eyes moved to the left he could faintly see a red flashing light bouncing off the side wall.  
He heard Eric open the door and used the moment to test the tape. He knew it was the same kind Eric always used and was going to be unbreakable, but it had become force of habit that he tried. The buckles on the straps – though they weren’t locked – were out of his reach.  
Eric must have left the door open because he suddenly heard voices behind him and down the hall. He immediately recognised the other as Fenton’s and reactively tried to sit up straighter. Both Eric and Fenton spoke softly at first before their voices raised slightly, and Taylor’s brow furrowed as he realised their exchange was becoming heated.  
It wasn’t until they were coming back to the dungeon that he realised it was because Fenton had changed his mind.  
“You’re making a mistake,” Eric was scornful but not seething, “I don’t see this ending well for you. For either of you. What if he does this again? You fucked up once, what’s to say it won’t happen again?”  
“We will be careful,” Fenton assured as he came down the steps.  
“With your new ‘security system’?” Eric’s sarcasm was evident, “you realise you’re so far out of town that if anything goes wrong none of us will get to you in time.”  
Taylor’s eyes darted between them as Fenton came to his side and Eric stood before them both. He didn’t dare hope that this was over. Eric’s gun was back in his belt.  
“I am aware,” Fenton was looking down on him with his usual placid expression, “but I’ve made my decision, and it was not a light one. After spending a single night without him…”  
His hand moved to Taylor’s head and settled into his fringe.  
“…I realised I couldn’t take more than one, knowing it was because of me that he was not there.”  
Eric scoffed and rolled his eyes.  
“He is never going to feel the same about you as you do him, you know that, yes?”  
“I do,” Fenton’s gaze was unwavering, “but yesterday proved to me that it could someday come close. Close enough for my contentment.”  
Taylor wasn’t sure what he meant, but he saw this as a way out. A way to survive another day. A way to go _home_.   
He again leant in to Fenton’s touch, wishing he could reassure him verbally.  
“I want him home,” Fenton insisted.  
“Fine,” Eric said blandly, “we can move him when you get home. Cover of darkness and all that crap.”  
“I want him home now,” Fenton corrected, “which is why I came early.”  
Taylor’s eyes shot to Eric, worried about his reaction.   
“How?” he demanded.  
“Help me move the trunk. It will be the most inconspicuous way.”  
Eric seemed to think about it for a moment before finally nodding his approval.  
“If you want to do it in broad daylight, yes,” he agreed, “how long do you have?”  
“An hour,” Fenton responded, taking his hand back from Taylor’s head, “it won’t take long if we use your cart.”  
“Then we’d better get started all the same,” Eric headed for the stairs.  
Fenton gave Taylor one last glance before following. The door closed behind them this time, and Taylor couldn’t hear anything through it.  
He took a deep breath and leant back into the chair. _He was going home_. He couldn’t imagine feeling more relieved, despite his tight restraints. He hoped nothing would change and the move would still take place on Sunday. He knew Fenton would have to either replace or remove the mirror – and now repair the wall where the air conditioner had been – before he could sell the house. He already knew his next mistake was going to be the scratches he’d left under the bed, but he wasn’t about to admit to them unnecessarily either.  
It wasn’t long before the men returned with the trunk, struggling to get it through the door at first. Once it was set on the ground Eric came to release the strapping before Fenton helped him lift Taylor into it. Taylor was glad to feel the familiarity of the velvet flooring and closed his eyes as the trunk lid shut and locked.   
It took quite a bit of effort from both men to get the trunk back to the basement. Eric taped over the three air holes so Taylor didn’t see any daylight in the move, but when he felt the trunk finally touch the floorboards of Fenton’s dungeon he let out a large sigh of relief.  
Fenton opened the trunk and the two of them lifted him out. Taylor expected to have to close his eyes again from the daylight that would have come through the hole in the wall, but when he looked up in that direction he saw it had already been bricked over. Fenton must have done it the night before.  
While he was distracted by it, Fenton had slid another chain around his left ankle below where the tape sat. Taylor felt a sinking feeling in his chest as the lock clicked shut, but soon realised they weren’t done. Eric had a small tube in his hands and when he knelt to put it to his ankle Taylor realised he was filling the lock with superglue.  
If he hadn’t already resigned himself to a life with Fenton, it would have been the final straw.   
“What are you going to do with him?” Eric asked between gentle blows on the glue.  
“The closet,” Fenton indicated, making Taylor look toward it.  
He didn’t want to go in there, but he knew he couldn’t fight back. He needed to take whatever form of punishment came. Maybe it would go back to normal when Fenton got back from work. Maybe it wouldn’t until they moved. Either way Taylor knew he’d have to wait until Fenton was ready. Until then he was going to have to endure the dark.  
“Allow me,” Eric mused, producing a roll of some kind of grey material.  
At Fenton’s nod, Eric came for him with it. Taylor leant back into the wall they’d sat him against but Eric grabbed him by the hair to pull his head forward again. With a grunt Taylor let him before he began wrapping the dressing around his head – almost like a makeshift hood. The material was light and breathable but Taylor could feel it moulding both to itself and to him.   
He instantly felt his claustrophobia kick in. Before Eric was even finished.  
Once he was, he felt himself being dragged back into the closet and he barely heard the door close and lock.


	127. Chapter 127

He tried to keep his breathing even. Before Fenton and Eric even left, Taylor was concentrating on his breathing. It was hard to breathe through the mesh wrap but he could do it. All he could smell was the glue.  
He had to remain hunched over, which made it an awkward fit in there, due to the way his arms had been taped down.   
To his surprise, he was glad to feel the chain on his ankle again. He’d felt naked without it. More naked than actually having _been_ naked. It reminded him of times he’d left the house without his necklaces. That feeling that something important was missing. The sound of the chain scraping through the hole in the door whenever he moved his feet was so welcoming that he kept doing it just to remind himself that he was home and not still in Eric’s cell.  
Something else that plagued his mind now were Eric’s newer threats. Despite being unable to do anything about it if Eric chose to ‘dig him up’ after his death, Taylor was sure it wouldn’t be something Fenton would look too fondly on. Maybe if he warned Fenton he could hide his body better somehow. Maybe even cremate him.   
The other side to that was that Taylor’s family were obviously still in Eric’s mind. Now that he hadn’t had the opportunity to kill him, _would_ he go after them? Would he play out his threat to Natalie? What had they even been doing on that street in the photos? Did Fenton know? He obviously knew Eric’s intent to threaten him, he’d practically confirmed that afterward. But did he know any plans Eric had for her? Did he care about his kids at all in this?  
Taylor grunted and tried to contain himself again. He didn’t know what would happen to the mesh if it got wet. He might accidentally suffocate himself just because he couldn’t pull himself together. He had to wait until Fenton got home – until Fenton decided to release him rather – before he could do anything. Even then all he could do was try and talk Fenton around. Which of course, always worked so well…  
He shifted again, his back already starting to hurt. He again wondered what kind of closet-like punishment awaited him at the new house. Fenton knew that playing on his claustrophobia was the best way to keep him in line, so he wouldn’t discard the concept. The trunk just didn’t work that way on him anymore. Even Taylor found it odd that while the confined space of the closet continued to instil fear, the trunk no longer did. But at least he could (usually) see out of it. With the closet, unless he heard footsteps on the stairs, he was oblivious to what was going on outside. Now with the added restraint of the wrap around his head he’d barely heard Eric and Fenton leaving either.  
Come to think of it, he couldn’t hear CNN. He couldn’t remember if he’d heard it when they’d pulled him from the trunk. Without CNN he wasn’t going to be able to tell the time.   
He guessed Fenton didn’t need the television on anymore. There was no way anyone would hear him both with the wall completely sealed and with the way he’d been gagged. He knew Fenton probably wouldn’t trust him to stay quiet but Taylor no longer had any intention of calling out. The only person who’d hear him would be Eric, or his wife.  
It made even more sense to know that was how Eric had first found him there. Perhaps if he hadn’t called for help in the first place Eric would have taken longer to find him. Maybe Fenton wouldn’t have told him at all. Taylor was still not all that sure how far their BD relationship went – he remembered hearing something about meetings Fenton used to attend and hadn’t since Taylor arrived – so maybe Eric had helped set up the basement? Maybe he was in good part responsible for Fenton’s obsession? He’d certainly never discouraged it as far as Taylor could tell.  
Regardless of whether he was or not, it didn’t change who Fenton was now. The person Taylor dealt with on a daily basis. Who still didn’t seem brave enough to force his ultimate fantasies on his own personal slave, despite his hints every now and then to the contrary. Taylor was already considering situations like the one he’d been in on Fenton’s birthday to be things he’d willingly take part in just to get things back to normal. Those two days and Eric’s punishment for the broken mirror continually came to mind when Taylor thought of his worst moments down here. Along with Eric’s ‘training sessions’ for Fenton’s party. Even the bars in Eric’s cell had brought back memories of being stuffed into the dog cage and had contributed to his lack of sleep there. And of course, he still bore plenty of scars.  
If this new house really was so far away… maybe Eric wouldn’t be visiting as much? Taylor badly wanted to somehow get it out of Fenton, but considering Fenton still called on him whenever Taylor did something wrong, perhaps he wouldn’t want Taylor to think so. Not knowing if Eric were still able to visit or not would keep him in line. At least from Fenton’s perspective. He knew he’d thought it before, but Taylor had no intention of disobeying him again. He’d come far too close to not being able to come back, and once had been enough. He knew it was going to be hard but really, nothing ever came easy. If he wanted a life – despite who it was with – he was going to have to work for it. It may not be the exact life he’d had in mind, but maybe someday… maybe something would change.  
Maybe he would change enough.  
He sighed as he shifted his head against the wall again, knowing he was probably going to bruise from it. He bruised so easily now. His sigh warmed the mesh that covered his nose and left a small pocket of warm breath there for a moment. From inside the closet he also couldn’t feel the heater, though he knew it was a lot warmer in there than it had been outside.  
 _Outside_. He’d been outside. He’d actually seen daylight.  
But he hadn’t had time to appreciate it.  
He knew Fenton had promised him more freedom at the new house, but what if yesterday’s actions had changed his mind? Did he have a fence built specifically so that Taylor could use the yard? Would he let that waste, or just force him to ‘earn’ it?  
Maybe that had been Fenton’s plan all along. To give him more freedom in exchange for favours.  
Taylor jumped a little when he heard something above him. It was too early for Fenton to be home, he was sure. He didn’t think he’d passed out at any point yet – he’d been concentrating on his breathing too much. It could have been the stairs just creaking.  
But then he heard it again. He struggled to sit himself up a little, his mind working overtime to try and figure out who it was. Did he really lose a whole day again? Did Fenton change his mind about something and come home early?  
Was Eric here to finish what he’d started this morning?  
More sure now that it had been footsteps he’d heard, he felt himself start to shiver as they hit the floor. If it was indeed Eric, then this was it. He had no other reason to come over at least until Fenton got home. The thought alone let a whimper escape the gag as he heard the closet bolt being undone. The door flung open so hard Taylor could feel a blast of cold air hit him. Then something odd happened.  
He could hear muffled voices. Almost as if Eric and Fenton were covering their mouths as they spoke. There was definitely more than one which made Taylor wonder if Eric had brought a friend…  
Then he felt someone go for the wrap. He flinched as he felt them take hold of his head and gently find the end in an effort to pull it free. It was slowly unwound until Taylor looked upward into blurry faces.  
Neither of them were Eric’s.


	128. Chapter 128

“Are you okay?” the man in a blue balaclava was asking, pulling it down to his chin so Taylor could see his mouth.  
Taylor just stared back at him before looking up to the man stood behind him. They were both dressed in dark clothing with open-faced balaclavas. The one standing had a rifle in his arms.  
Taylor jumped back as the one knelt in the doorway reached for the tape on his mouth. He was so disoriented he couldn’t hear what the man was saying to him, on top of hearing more noise from outside now that the wrap had gone.   
The next thing he felt was his ankles being cut free.  
“Can you walk?!” the man’s voice had risen, and Taylor assumed it was with annoyance.  
He quickly nodded as the tape was also cut from his knees and the man began to work on his wrists.  
“We need bolt cutters here!” the man standing called to the side.  
“What’s going on?” Taylor finally found his voice, though he was sure they wouldn’t hear it over the commotion.  
There were still footsteps on the stairs.  
“You’re safe,” the man in front of him looked him dead in the eye, “he’s not going to hurt you anymore.”  
Taylor gave him a confused look before shaking his head as he looked to the other.  
“This is a trick,” he didn’t mean to say aloud, “I swear I didn’t mean it, he doesn’t have to do this!”  
“Calm down,” the man insisted, a hand out to pacify him, “we’ll have you out of here as soon as we get the chain off your ankle. Just work with me until then. Take some deep breaths and calm yourself.”  
Taylor frowned again, only more confused. Another look to the man waiting behind and he took in his vest for the first time.  
Emblazoned on the front, in large white letters, was the acronym FBI.  
A quick look showed the man kneeling in front of him wore one too.   
“That’s it,” he was still working to keep Taylor calm, not realising what had just happened inside his head, “we’re almost there.”  
Taylor blinked as his mind seemed to go blank, before his eyes fell to his wrists. The tape was almost off and it was finally pulled from his thighs. A quick flick from a switchblade and the bands around his arms had also been cut.  
“Come on, up you get.”  
The man took hold of his arm and helped him to his feet. He stepped back so that Taylor could step out of the closet himself.  
Taylor took a moment. He’d never walked from the closet, only ever crawled. When he finally took what felt like a giant leap, he could see two other men beside the ones he’d already seen in the basement. All of them in uniform. All armed and all with the FBI vests.  
One of them was handing the man who had hold of him a set of bolt cutters and he quickly knelt to Taylor’s side again. Taylor watched like a hawk as he carefully selected a link close to the padlock and cut the chain free from his ankle.  
He had to be dreaming.  
“Let’s get him out!” another from the landing at the top of the stairs announced.  
The first man handed the cutters back to the one who’d given them to him before leading Taylor to the stairs. He could hear even more of them in the house.  
 _Was he actually about to see inside Fenton’s house?_  
He was wary as he climbed, continually looking back at the agents to be sure they weren’t going to aim the guns at him instead. This would be just like Eric to have people dressed as agents and pretend to rescue him – if he were going to die it didn’t matter if he saw their faces – only to move him somewhere more convenient for Eric to carry it out.   
He stopped in the doorway, looking down at the polished floor. He’d never seen it before. The floorboards were almost a crimson colour, and the tiles in other rooms were a white marble -immaculately clean - with some kind of swooping pearl design.   
“Is something wrong?” the first man who’d freed him asked from behind.  
Taylor jumped a little at the voice before putting his hand in his hair.  
“No,” he replied before stepping across.  
He was led to the right a little where he could see the certificates on the wall exactly as he remembered. The hallway was a little to the right of the basement door and Fenton’s office appeared to be the first room from it. As they continued down Taylor could see the house mapped out pretty much how he’d imagined. The large bedroom with king sized bed sat halfway over the basement, the kitchen to their left as they walked, and a large living area at the front of the house.  
There were a lot of floral patterns and a lot of expensive furnishings. The rest of the house looked like a completely different world to downstairs, and Taylor felt like he’d fallen down the rabbit hole.   
A lot of belongings were stacked in boxes, ready for the upcoming move.  
It wasn’t so overcast outside today and Taylor had to shield his eyes once they made it to the living room. He didn’t have a chance to look around and work out where he’d been during Fenton’s party before he was taken through the front door. The sight outside just plain took his breath away.  
There were three squad cars and a black van, the cars all had lights flashing. It was not what he’d expected to see. As he looked to the right toward what he knew was a vacant block he could see another white van hurriedly driving toward the group and one of the officers suddenly took him by the arm again.  
“Let’s get you in quick,” he insisted, leading him down the front steps.  
Taylor looked toward Eric’s house. There was no sign of anyone. There were no agents over there.   
“Where are they?” he was again surprised his voice made it out, but this time over the outside noise he wasn’t heard.  
He was taken to one of the squad cars and had the back door opened for him.  
“Here,” the agent offered him a jacket, “put this over your head.”  
“No,” Taylor felt his heart leap into his chest, “please don’t make me do that.”  
“I’m not making you,” the agent assured, “but the media are here.”  
Taylor looked over his shoulder to the white van where two people were fumbling with equipment. He took the jacket from the agent and slipped into the car, moving over so the large man could come in with him.  
Just the act of sitting in a car – never mind a squad car – felt odd to him. He hadn’t sat on anything this soft since he’d been taken. Even Fenton’s bed was harder. When the car moved as the agent sat beside him he actually felt early pangs of motion sickness.  
“We’ll get you out of here and then get down to business,” the agent assured.  
Taylor didn’t think he could have picked a worse way to word it. But he was soon distracted by camera flashes and grunted to himself as his already-hurting eyes took the brunt of it before burying his face in the jacket.  
He felt the car reverse out from behind another and take off down the street.


	129. Chapter 129

The reception at the police station was just as rushed. The officers and agents quickly wanted him inside before the media could get there, and they barely made it in time. Finally able to pull the jacket from his eyes once he was inside, he still struggled to see very well as he was led through the station – the stares too many to count – and into a back room.  
Finally the light was dim enough. The agent with him offered him a seat at a desk in what looked like an interrogation room. Taylor eyed off the contoured plastic before taking it. He still wasn’t entirely sure this wasn’t a trap. He hadn’t ever been to this station before and he certainly hadn’t been to the back of one.  
“Can we get you something? A drink of water?”  
Taylor looked up at the agent who’d stayed with him from the moment he’d been found, hearing what seemed to be genuine worry in his voice for the first time.  
He nodded, wishing they’d offered food instead. But he put out the call for some water before taking up a post by the open door.  
“There’ll be someone in shortly to check you over,” he said after a moments’ awkward silence, “just to make sure you’re okay. Physically.”  
“What happened?” Taylor frowned, keeping his eyes to the table.  
“Sorry?”  
“How did…?”  
Taylor cut himself off, not sure of what to ask. His mind was spinning. It had only been a few hours earlier that he was sure Eric was going to kill him. Now he was suddenly sitting in a police station with an _open door_.   
“Everything will be explained when your case worker gets here,” the agent assured, “until then if there’s something you need help with, just ask.”  
“Where’s Fenton?” was the first thing that came to mind.  
“Doctor Fenton was collected from his surgery and has been remanded in custody,” the agent responded straight away.  
Taylor blanched. It sounded so… official. He looked to the door as he wondered exactly…  
“Where?”  
“Not here,” the agent assured, “another station.”  
“And Eric?”  
The agent frowned, and Taylor caught it.  
“Eric, his neighbour,” he quickly rectified, “did you find him too?!”  
The agent looked to the door as someone appeared with Taylor’s glass of water.   
“Tell me please,” Taylor sat up in the chair as the glass was brought to him, “did you find Eric?”  
“I don’t know,” the agent shook his head, “you’ll have to wait for your case agent.”  
Taylor’s right heel started to bounce nervously. He didn’t know what Eric’s day job was – if he even had one. He could have worked with the cops for all he knew. Where would he have gone?  
The case agent eventually came rushing in maybe fifteen minutes later. Taylor was once again unnerved to not have access to a clock. The agent in the meantime had done nothing but try to pacify him as Taylor worked to try and get the water down.  
“Sorry I took so long,” the woman in a tan skirt suit apologised as she set files onto the table in front of him, “have the paramedics seen you yet?”  
“They haven’t,” the agent answered for him, already having picked up on Taylor’s penchant to stay quiet.  
“I’m okay,” Taylor felt the need to assure, “I’m just hungry.”  
“We’ll get you some food, but you do need to be looked over,” the woman insisted before pausing.  
She set her briefcase on the opposite chair and extended her hand.  
“Apologies for my abrupt entrance. This is very exciting for us, and I hope for you too. My name is Josephine Davey. I’ve been working your case since almost day one.”  
“Almost?” Taylor gingerly extended his hand to shake hers.  
“I was brought in from Chicago a few weeks after you went missing,” she explained as he once again hugged his waist and she attempted to sort her filing before taking a seat.  
“I’m sorry,” Taylor apologised, working out that it must have been around Christmas.  
“For what?”  
“Do you need to be alone?” the agent in the room asked.  
“Please,” she gave him a nod.  
Taylor almost asked him to stay, but by the time he’d worked up the courage he was gone. He closed the door behind him and due to a mirror being where the window would usually be he couldn’t see where he’d gone.   
Davey pulled a recorder from her briefcase and set it on the table.  
“I’d just like to go over some preliminary details with you,” she began as she read through some notes, “just to confirm what we’ve all been thinking. You can confirm that you are Jordan Taylor Hanson, yes?”  
“I am,” Taylor agreed, keeping his eyes down.  
“And until today you’ve been in the custody of a Doctor James Fenton?”  
“I was,” Taylor’s voice broke and he instantly berated himself.  
He wondered exactly where Fenton was. He wondered if he was okay.   
“Now I know this might be hard,” the woman leant forward slightly causing him to look up, “but as part of protocol… Seeing as the family never received a ransom notice we were led to assume the custody was personal in nature?”  
Taylor’s eyes narrowed slightly at her wording, wondering if she had to do it for legal reasons or if they really weren’t sure what had happened.  
“I was abducted for sexual reasons, yes,” he came out with, eyes to the door again.  
“You confirm that you didn’t go willingly?”  
“No,” he almost scorned, “I was drugged.”  
Davey scribbled some quick notes as Taylor looked to the recorder. He couldn’t tell if it was going but he guessed he wasn’t supposed to.  
“We will need you to go into details on that later, but don’t worry about it now,” she assured, “we just need to get the basics down. Why didn’t you fight back, if you were taken unwillingly?”  
“He had my daughter,” Taylor frowned, thinking they should have already worked that out.  
“And once she was released?”  
Taylor looked to the mirror as he started getting worked up, wondering who was standing behind it. He certainly felt as though he were being interrogated.  
“I was chained,” he admitted, blinking at the effort it took for the words to get out, “I was chained, and I couldn’t… I couldn’t break them. I tried.”  
Davey didn’t seem to notice his distress and continued writing her notes.  
“Why did it take so long?” Taylor studied her face in order to gauge an honest reaction.  
She simply continued writing, ignoring the question altogether.


	130. Chapter 130

“How many people were involved?”  
“I don’t know,” Taylor shook his head.  
“You don’t know?”  
“I know of three for sure,” he shrugged, “and I saw another’s face but I couldn’t give you a name. Then there was maybe four, five that came to Fenton’s house in July…”  
“What for?”  
Taylor’s face flushed red and he looked to the door again. Taking the hint Davey backtracked.  
“What three do you know for sure?”  
“Fenton,” Taylor said decidedly, “Eric and his wife.”  
“Who is Eric? Do you have a last name?”  
“I don’t, and I don’t know his wife’s,” Taylor finally leant forward to rest his arms on the table, “they’re his neighbours. Can’t they go to the house?”  
The woman glanced over her shoulder before getting back to it.  
“Please, he’s a very dangerous man,” Taylor insisted, “I just saw him kill someone last night, and he has someone else captive still!”  
“Are you sure?”  
“Of course I’m sure, that’s not something you forget!” Taylor scorned.  
“I’m sure they’ll send someone out,” she said nonchalantly.  
“You need to tell someone,” Taylor insisted, “I don’t know how long that girl has left. Especially now that I’m gone, he’s gonna be pissed off and that’s _my_ fault.”  
“It’s hardly your fault,” Davey looked him in the eye again, “none of this has been your fault. I hope you realise that.”  
“I won’t take blame for the assault, I know that’s on them,” Taylor assured, “but I will for provoking them into making it worse for myself and others.”  
He jumped a little as the door suddenly opened, a man dressed in paramedic clothes with a first aid kit in hand stepping in.   
“Finally,” Davey seemed annoyed on Taylor’s behalf.  
“Is there somewhere more private we can go?” the paramedic asked.  
“Why?” Taylor looked worried as Davey stood from her chair.  
“If your attack was sexual in nature we need to gather as much physical evidence as possible,” Davey insisted.  
“But I haven’t been raped in days,” Taylor’s brow furrowed.  
“Have you showered?” the paramedic asked.  
“I’ve…” Taylor cut off to stop and think.  
It had been at least a few days, possibly Tuesday since he’d been raped. But it had definitely been since the weekend.  
“He bathed me on Saturdays,” he didn’t look up, “I was last raped on Tuesday.”  
“How often were you raped?” Davey asked, seemingly more out of curiosity than formality.  
“I lost count,” Taylor admitted somewhat uncomfortably.  
Davey and the paramedic shared a glance before Davey collected her briefcase.  
“I’ll leave you,” she said before turning to the paramedic, “let me know when you’re done.”  
He gave her a nod as he applied his gloves. Davey slipped through the door before anything else could be said.  
Taylor felt too awkward to stand and so waited to see what he’d want.  
“Do you get this often?” he asked when the silence became too much to bear.  
“Sorry?” the man – not much older than he – turned back.  
“Male rape victims, I mean,” Taylor conceded.   
“More than you might think,” he assured, “are you wearing anything under the robe?”  
“No,” Taylor admitted.  
He picked up a clipboard and came to set it on the desk before indicating for Taylor to stand. He obliged.  
“I’ll also need to take note of any injuries you’ve sustained,” Taylor saw him give him a once over with his eyes, “is there anything particular you need to tell me?”  
“That depends,” Taylor considered, “do you need to know about ones that have healed already?”  
“Anything you want to tell me,” he shrugged as he knelt down to inspect Taylor’s right leg.  
“That ankle was broken,” he said straight off, making the paramedic hesitate, “on the first day. He set it in plaster right away and it came off six weeks later.”  
After his pause, he continued to inspect the leg – paying careful attention to the ankle. He examined the scars from Eric’s whip with extra care.  
“He broke my wrist, too,” Taylor felt the need to add, “because he thought I was trying to escape a locked box. Which I wasn’t. At the time…”  
“Which wrist?”  
“The right,” Taylor was watching as he worked.  
He soon moved to the left leg instead, and it wasn’t long before he found the first tattoo.  
“Is this…?”  
“It was not there before, no,” Taylor confirmed, “there’s another on my neck.”  
“You were branded?”  
Taylor hesitated at the use of the term, flashbacks from the day it happened already haunting him.  
“Yeah,” he realised, “they’re his initials. So yeah.”  
He avoided eye contact from that moment. Memories of how he’d felt when he’d first gotten the tattoos came crawling back and reminded him that _he was still Fenton’s_. As long as he had the brands, and as long as he had the scars. He wasn’t sure that – if he were even able – getting rid of them would change anything.  
The paramedic was thorough and made sure Taylor was as comfortable as possible every step of the way. When he packed up to leave with his report Taylor saw through the doorway that a group of officers had huddled outside. Left alone to his thoughts for a moment longer as the door closed behind the paramedic, he leant over the table as he suddenly struggled to keep his eyes open. He wasn’t sure when he’d last slept. It had certainly been before his botched escape. It must have been Wednesday night? More importantly, if he did fall asleep… would he wake up back in the basement?  
His head shot up as the door opened again, instantly making him dizzy but he failed to show it. Davey had returned and brought with her an officer in street uniform.  
“I hope that went okay,” she took up her seat again, “this is Officer Penkett, he’s going to help us find out what exactly happened to you this past year.”  
“You know what happened to me,” Taylor looked between them, “I was held prisoner.”  
“By Doctor James Fenton,” the officer’s voice was gruff, unlike his appearance.  
“That’s right,” Taylor agreed.  
“And you were kept in the basement the whole time?”  
“He took me out once,” Taylor darted a look to Davey, “but I was blindfolded.”


	131. Chapter 131

Taylor hugged himself protectively as Davey and Penkett continued their line of questioning. He often wondered why they didn’t just ask Fenton for the dirty details. He even wondered if they truly had him in custody or if they’d just told him that.  
“Why wouldn’t he just have them all in the basement? Why risk bringing you out?” Penkett had been stuck on this event since it had come up.  
“It wasn’t a risk, I was restrained,” Taylor shrugged, “and threatened. I wasn’t going anywhere.”  
“What did he threaten you with?”  
“I don’t remember,” Taylor replied honestly, “it was half a year ago. I don’t remember.”  
Taylor noticed the look on Penkett’s face at that and frowned.  
“When do I get told what happened?” he asked.  
“Excuse me?” the officer looked up from his recording.  
“How did you find me?” Taylor shrugged, “and what took so long? Why wasn’t Fenton looked into from the start? What could he possibly say to you to have you turn a complete blind eye?!”  
“We did not have a blind eye on Fenton,” Penkett corrected.  
“So you just didn’t notice he had a sex slave in the basement?” Taylor scorned.  
“It’s hard to notice,” Penkett hit back.  
“A search warrant was never executed,” Davey took the middle ground, “but we did have our eyes on him for some time.”  
“For how long?” Taylor demanded, unable to withhold his temper as he usually would have.  
“Months,” Penkett replied.  
“And you noticed _nothing_ out of the ordinary?”  
“Nothing changed,” Davey kept her tone neutral, “we put surveillance on him. We wired his cell phone. We looked into his accounts. Nothing changed from the weeks before you disappeared to the weeks after. Not even his grocery bill.”  
Taylor turned his eyes away. That might have explained why Fenton fed him so little.  
“So how did you find me?” he asked, expecting an answer to do with pure luck.  
“A neighbour called it in,” Davey replied, making Taylor look up again curiously, “she heard your cries for help yesterday and saw you enter the neighbouring home.”  
“Someone recognised me?” Taylor didn’t remember seeing anyone on the street.  
“I don’t believe she knew who you were,” Penkett scoffed, “but she became suspicious and called it in.”  
“Fenton was put under surveillance again overnight,” Davey continued, “they saw the transition of a wooden chest from one house to the other and were able to secure a search warrant.”  
Taylor could feel his chest tightening again. He wasn’t sure what to think about the revelation.  
“So the whole time Eric was convincing me that he was going to put a bullet in my brain… you were just sitting outside?” his eyes narrowed.  
“This… Eric? He threatened to kill you?” Penkett was suddenly interested again.  
“He wanted to get rid of me because I’d become too much of a hassle, or whatever,” Taylor shook his head, “Fenton went home to sleep on it and eventually decided against it. They would have done it. I have no doubt whatsoever.”  
“Why were you a hassle?” Penkett asked absently.  
“Because I escaped,” Taylor shrugged, “or tried to, at least.”  
He scratched at his head awkwardly as he was reminded of how close he’d come.  
“Eric didn’t think I’d ever give up. He tried to convince Fenton to do away with me because he was planning to anyway.”  
He cringed even as he said it. It was the last thing he wanted to talk about.   
“Fenton had planned to kill you?” Davey had to confirm.  
Taylor nodded, keeping his eyes to the wall. He didn’t want to say it aloud. It could very well still happen to him, he didn’t know for sure that it wouldn’t.  
If this really was freedom, who knew what kind of legal mess this would make? People got off all the time. They’d just come after him again.  
“Did he say how?” Penkett pressed.  
“He did,” Taylor replied, quickly rubbing his nose before keeping his arms in tight again, “he told me exactly what he was going to do. Just not when.”  
Davey and Penkett shared a look before there was a soft knock on the door. Taylor sighed with relief at the interruption as Penkett got up to answer it. The use of low voices meant that Taylor couldn’t hear what they were saying, and he didn’t look up until Davey also stood.  
“Some clothes for you,” Penkett stood in the doorway with a bundle in his hands, “until you can get some from home.”  
“…Oh,” Taylor realised, dropping his arms and shifting the chair back without actually standing up, “thank you.”  
“I’ll leave you for a moment,” Davey offered, taking her suitcase but leaving her paperwork on the desk.  
Penkett set the clothes on the desk when he realised Taylor wouldn’t take them from him, before following her from the room. Taylor waited until the door closed before he reached for them.  
It was a plain cotton shirt and navy pants, probably from the uniform storage. Taylor thought they looked small, but he wasn’t sure what he’d fit anymore either. He wasn’t sure he’d even fit in anything from home.  
Still unsure about the mirror – not to mention the crowd he’d gotten a glimpse of outside – he opted to leave the kimono on until he pulled on the pants. Despite thinking they were small they actually sagged around his hips a little. Finally taking off the kimono to replace with the shirt, the sleeves were a normal length but he was sure it would have wrapped around him one and a half times.  
He looked to the chair as he debated taking a seat again to wait for them to come back, but he opted to stand in the end. He’d spent enough time sitting and waiting in the cell and if he sat for much longer he was going to fall asleep. He found a spot under the room’s air conditioner to pause for a moment and appreciate the air flow. It was able to distract him from how coarse the material from the clothes was feeling against his skin. How restrictive they felt even.  
Also finally able to have some time alone, he took the opportunity to try and centre himself again. If this had been a game of Eric’s it was very well thought out. But what if the media had been able to work out what was going on? Were they going to cover his ‘rescue’ without knowing the facts? Did the police have some kind of hold on the media they could use? _Did Eric?_  
He certainly remembered what had happened when he’d broken the mirror. He’d always underestimated Eric’s power. Yet whenever he said his name, the officials around him so far had all responded with blank stares. As if he’d simply made up an evil sidekick for Fenton. This was despite Davey’s story that under surveillance they’d seen the both of them moving the trunk.  
He took a deep breath and leant back against the wall. He knew it all had to be explained eventually. He also knew that even though it had already been hard, he was going to have a lot more story to tell.


	132. Chapter 132

“Mom?!”  
“Just wait Ezra, please!”  
Natalie put a hand to her forehead when on top of the chaos, the doorbell rang.  
“I’ll get it,” Kate offered, Abraham perched on her hip as she left the room.  
Natalie stopped to take a deep breath. In and out. This was only momentary, it wouldn’t last forever.  
“So can I go?”  
Natalie opened her eyes to see a hopeful yet expectant look on Penny’s face.   
“Can you ask me again in a few hours?” she pleaded, “I’m just really busy right now.”  
“But a few hours will be too late!”  
“Mom!”  
“Ezra!” she exclaimed, “what is it?!”  
“Viggo’s hurt himself! He’s not bleeding but he won’t say what happened.”  
Natalie left Penny’s side, leaving the nine year old to sigh in frustration at her reckless brothers. She found Viggo in the bathroom with River and Shepherd both by his side. He was holding his left knee and there were tears in his eyes.  
“I think he fell,” Shepherd offered as she bent down to him.  
“Natalie?!”  
“Ezra, go see what your Aunt wants,” Natalie shooed her eldest as she took a look at Viggo’s knee.  
It didn’t appear swollen but was certainly starting to bruise.  
“Did anyone see anything?” she looked to River.  
“Nope,” he shook his head, “we just came in and found him crying.”  
“Viggo? Honey? It’ll be okay,” she insisted, running her fingers gently through his hair, “it’s just a bruise sweetie, it’ll be fine in no time.”  
“It might even go purple!” Shepherd attempted to cheer the younger boy up.  
“Nat?”  
Natalie sighed before turning back to see Kate in the doorway, still with Abraham on her hip. Her face was almost white.  
“What is it?” she was suddenly worried.  
“You need to take this,” Kate insisted, Ezra appearing at her side.  
Natalie looked back to Viggo before pulling herself up.  
“Can you watch Viggo for me?” she asked as she stepped past.  
Kate just nodded, before insisting that Ezra stay with her. Natalie paused when she heard it but adjusted her blouse as she headed for the front door all the same.  
She could see the shadows before she got there. They were quite obviously police in uniform. It had been a long time since they’d graced her doorstep, and it had never been with good news. She felt her chest tighten as she dazedly moved closer, coming to the open door to see one of them inspecting the wreath on the door.  
“Mrs Hanson?” the other – who she knew as Officer Dawkes – greeted.  
“Yes?” she knew she must have looked worried.  
Their expressions weren’t helping. They couldn’t have looked more solemn if they’d tried. A thought she’d had a million times over once again came to the forefront and she momentarily stopped breathing. _He can’t be dead._  
“Mrs Hanson, we’ve found your husband.”  
Natalie covered her mouth with her hand as a grunt escaped. Tears immediately sprang to her eyes.  
“He’s alive,” the second officer added before she could even guess one way or the other, “we have him down at the station. We’re here to offer you a ride.”  
“Oh my God,” she finally breathed again, having to take a moment to compose herself.  
“Do you need some help?” Dawkes asked, motioning for her handbag and coat.  
“No, no. Just… wait a moment. Please,” she turned back into the house, “Kate?!”  
“Yeah?” she appeared from the hallway.  
“Can you watch the kids for me?”  
“Sure,” she offered right away, looking between Natalie and the officers as her sister-in-law collected her handbag, “are you okay?”  
“Yeah,” Natalie couldn’t help but smile through the tears, “and ah… could you call Zac? And Jess? And Ike and Nikki? And Di?”  
“What’s going on?” Kate finally couldn’t take it any longer.  
Natalie grabbed her coat from behind the door.  
“He’s home,” she replied, the words almost not making it out.  
Kate lost her breath for a moment before her eyes quickly began to tear up too. She leant forward to give Natalie a quick one-sided hug.  
“Good luck,” she offered her a smile before Natalie disappeared into the cold.  
Kate locked the door behind her before quickly letting Abraham down onto the floor and sourcing out her cell phone. Her fingers shook as she hit the speed dial and put it to her ear.  
“Hey, I was just-“  
“Your brother’s home,” Kate cut him off before he could get carried away.  
There was a slight pause on the line.  
“…What do you mean?” he gave in.  
“I mean Taylor,” Kate couldn’t help but smile, “I don’t know the details but the cops just came and took Natalie to the station. He’s there. I think you should be too.”  
“I’m on my way. Are the kids-?”  
“I’m staying here,” Kate assured, “is Ike with you?”  
“No, he just left. Crap! I need to… Who else knows?”  
“No one, you’re the first I called. She asked me to call Ike, Jess and your Mom.”  
“Yeah, do that. Please. Get Jess to call Avie and Mac.”  
“Okay. Will you be okay?”  
“Already in the car. I’ll call you from the station!”  
“Great.”  
Zac hung up before she could say anything else, and Kate hurriedly dialled Isaac’s cell phone. It went to voicemail. With an annoyed grunt she dialled Nikki’s instead.  
“Hello?”  
“He’s home,” Kate was suddenly back to keeping an eye on the kids, “Taylor’s home. Where’s Ike?”  
“I’m not sure, I think he’s on his way home? Did you try calling?”  
“I did, I couldn’t get through. If he gets home can you get him to either call Zac or just go straight to the station?”  
“I will. Thanks Kate.”  
“Bye.”  
Kate hung up and found Jessica’s number next. She stopped to take a deep breath before dialling.  
“Hey, Jess? Your brother’s home…”


	133. Chapter 133

Natalie felt as though she were in a daze as she entered the police station. Six months earlier she almost felt like it had become a second home. The amount of interviews she’d had to do, and her continued push for them to find something, anything… she’d almost spent more time here than at home.  
They took her directly to a familiar office to first ‘have a talk’, but she couldn’t help searching the station with her eyes in the small hope she might catch a glimpse of him. She also couldn’t help feeling annoyed that when she finally took a seat she couldn’t see more than a small portion of the hallway.  
“Mrs Hanson, we just need to let you know a few things before you can see your husband…”  
“Is he okay?” Natalie frowned, suddenly more worried than she had been earlier.  
She didn’t know what to think yet. All she’d been told was that he’d been found. Had he even wanted to come home? Did he just turn himself in after a year for closure? _Had they lied, was he dead?_  
“He is not in the best of health, but he is okay,” the officer assured, making Natalie bite her lip nervously, “he will look and act very different to the way you last saw him. He’s very malnourished, and very wary of people so far. He also isn’t talking very much yet.”  
“What happened?” Natalie forced out, not sure she wanted to know but knowing that she needed to.  
“According to his story…” Natalie couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the legal jargon, “he was taken. He has been held prisoner ever since in a basement not far from here.”  
“A basement?” Natalie repeated, “he’s been in a _basement_ this whole time?”  
The officer nodded and Natalie covered her mouth again. It was too surreal. There was no way this was true.  
Someone was pranking her. They hadn’t found him at all.  
“There won’t be an easy overnight fix, he’s going to need a lot of help to get back to ‘normal’,” the officer went on, “but there is help on offer to get him back on his feet. Of course he will need medical attention to start with, and then there are certain avenues of therapy for cases like this…”  
“How do you mean?” Natalie wasn’t sure if it really was complicated or if she just couldn’t concentrate under the circumstances.  
“Well they do tend to be far and few between, but your husband is not the only person to go through something like this,” the officer assured, “there are certain therapists trained for such cases, however most of the classes and recovery models are aimed toward female victims.”  
There was a pause as Natalie let it sink in before she awkwardly scratched at her head.  
“Are you saying he was abused… sexually?” she was surprised she got the words out.  
The officer nodded and she had to turn away. It wasn’t something she’d really considered. They joked on and off about obsessed fans taking advantage, but nothing like this.   
“When can I see him?” she asked.  
“Soon,” the officer promised, “he’s speaking with Ms Davey and officer Penkett right now, helping with their enquiries.”  
“Who did this?” Natalie couldn’t keep the venom from her voice, not that she tried.  
“Let’s just focus on your husband for now,” the officer said softly as Natalie wiped at her face.  
“Will he have to go to hospital?”  
“We’re not sure yet. We’re going to try and treat him here as best we can, but if the doctors recommend it we will send him across as needed. It depends on his response to the help.”  
Natalie nodded to show she understood.  
“How long are you going to keep him?” she asked, already wondering what they were going to tell the kids about what happened.  
“At this stage it’s hard to tell. Once he’s been cleared physically he should be able to go home. How long that will take, we aren’t sure. He hasn’t been here for very long yet and he’ll need to be observed closely to ascertain his needs.”  
Natalie nodded.  
“What can I do to help?”  
“Keep him calm,” the officer suggested, “encourage him to talk, especially if he wants to. Try not to directly engage in talking about the abuse as we don’t want to spook him into shutting us out just yet.”  
“My husband is a fighter,” Natalie insisted, “there is no way he’s going to let this… abuser get the better of him. I know him. He’s stronger than that.”  
“You knew him,” the officer corrected softly again, “but he will possibly have changed in a very substantial way over the past year, and you need to prepare yourself for that.”  
Natalie took another deep breath, working to calm herself. If she was upset herself she wasn’t going to be able to help Taylor.   
“Has he previously been abused?” the officer asked suddenly.  
Natalie hesitated, not expecting the question.  
“Nothing like what I assume this was,” she replied, “he’s been assaulted, but not…”  
She cut herself off, not wanting to speculate.   
The officer looked up as someone stopped in the doorway before leaning over the desk slightly.  
“Would you like to see him now?”  
Natalie nodded, immediately standing from the chair and grabbing her handbag. Both of them led her further into the station and she quickly saw where a crowd had gathered beside a closed door. Knowing instinctively that this had to be the room she paused in her stride.  
“Move out,” one of the officers announced, thumbing over his shoulder in indication for the group to disperse.   
Natalie waited until they had passed and for her escorts to usher her forward. She knew the window must have been tinted because there was dim light coming from it whereas the hallway was dark. Whoever was in there wasn’t going to be able to see out.  
She tentatively stepped forward to where they indicated. For a moment she thought the joke was up and it was an obviously empty room, but she soon lay eyes on her husband for the first time in twelve months. He was standing back against the closer wall with his eyes closed.  
Natalie’s hand shot to her mouth again as her brow furrowed in shock. He looked terrible. His collarbone was protruding through the skin and he looked more pale than she could ever remember him being. The clothes he wore were hanging from him and his hair in a messy ponytail that fell past his shoulders.  
“Are you okay?” one of the officers rubbed her back, and Natalie nodded right away.  
She dropped her hand and took a few more deep breaths.  
“Let’s do this,” she insisted once she’d gotten over the initial jolt.  
She waited as one of them opened the door to the room and stepped through himself. She watched closely as Taylor jumped and looked toward the door.   
With a glance over her shoulder to the other escort, she finally stepped through herself.


	134. Chapter 134

Taylor’s world stood still when he saw her. He couldn’t be sure he wasn’t just imagining it. Did Eric hire a lookalike?   
But he didn’t have much time to panic before she was suddenly in his arms. And just as suddenly, nothing else mattered.  
Taylor didn’t realise he’d stopped breathing until he started panting to catch his breath. Natalie didn’t move, but he could feel her heart almost in sync with his. He didn’t need to see her face to know that it was her. _He could feel her._  
Neither of them noticed the door closing as they were left alone. Neither of them had any idea how long they embraced.  
“I never want to let go,” Natalie broke the silence.  
“I know the feeling.”  
Natalie gave a short laugh. They were the first words he’d spoken.  
Knowing he was going to have to be the one to do it, Taylor finally pushed her back. She immediately wiped at her eyes and found herself unable to look into his.  
“Are you okay?” he asked, not letting go of her shoulders.  
She laughed again.  
“Wow I am the wrong person to be asked that,” she mused, annoyed at herself as her tears kept coming, “everyone’s been so worried about you.”  
“I’m okay,” Taylor insisted, still trying to look her in the eye, “it could have been a lot worse.”  
That sobered her up as she suddenly remembered what the officer had told her. She took another breath before finally looking up at him.  
She nervously laughed again.  
“You look terrible,” she covered her mouth.  
“Believe me, I know,” he couldn’t help but smile now, “I mean… I don’t know how bad because it was a gradual thing, but I have an idea.”  
“You look like you need a burger.”  
“I would _love_ a burger right now. I am starving.”  
“They haven’t fed you?” Natalie worked to compose herself.  
“No they haven’t,” Taylor looked toward the window, “I’ve had water, but…”  
“I can make sure they give you something,” she stepped away toward the door.  
Taylor gulped slightly as he lost contact with her, already worried about her leaving. She paused barely three feet away and he felt his heart fluttering in a way that reminded him of his wedding day.  
“Who did this?” she asked, before turning back.  
Taylor gulped again when he realised no one had told her yet. He didn’t want to be the one to do it.  
“Was it someone you knew?” she was trying to remain calm, but he could see the fire behind her eyes, “was it someone who goes to events all the time? Was she-“  
“No,” Taylor cut in, not wanting her to go on, “it wasn’t a fan. I mean it was, but… I didn’t know. I didn’t know he was.”  
Natalie blanched, and Taylor regretted saying it that way right off.  
“He?” she was sure she hadn’t heard right.  
Taylor rubbed his chin before stepping forward and taking her shoulder. He pulled her back to the chair he’d been sitting on and indicated for her to sit down, before leaning back against the table beside her.  
“I’ve spent a long time wondering how this was going to go,” he bit his lip, keeping his eyes down as she shifted in her seat.  
“Taylor you’re scaring me,” she stared him down, “what is it?”  
“Before I tell you,” he insisted, “I need you to know that it’s okay. They told me he’s in custody and he can’t hurt anyone. He also assured me throughout the year that he strictly kept it business out here in the real world.”  
Natalie felt sick. It was someone they knew.  
Taylor looked across to make sure she was ready.  
“It was Doctor Fenton,” his voice broke.  
“Oh my God-“  
“He swore to me that he was looking after you,” Taylor insisted as Natalie leant forward to put her head in her hands, “that what he was doing had no effect on his being a family doctor. He never threatened you. He took care of Willa when her finger was broken.”  
“Oh my God, Taylor I saw him last week.”  
Taylor’s eyes shot back to her.  
“Viggo’s not talking and he was suggesting some alternate therapies because what we were doing obviously wasn’t working…” Natalie shook her head before pausing.  
“Viggo isn’t-“  
“Tay?” she cut him off, “how did Willa’s finger get broken?”  
Taylor turned away again, covering his mouth to make sure he didn’t accidentally spit it out. She didn’t need to know just yet.  
“Tay?”  
“It was my fault,” he insisted, “just… tell me she’s okay now.”  
“Of course she is,” Natalie insisted, “she’s doing a lot better than the rest of us.”  
Taylor’s eyes fell. He again wondered how much his youngest had grown in the past year.   
“He told me a few of you were on medication,” he said softly.  
“Yeah,” Natalie wiped at her eyes yet again, “Penny and Viggo. And me, too.”  
“Why?” Taylor was afraid to ask, “I mean, I know why. Just… how bad did it get?”  
“It was bad,” Natalie nodded to herself, “I mean it was around Christmas, so… it was hard. I remember the kids putting on _Baby Please Come Home_ and they were just playing it over and over and over and I ended up screaming at them to stop.”  
Taylor watched as she obviously had trouble talking about it. But he didn’t know what to do. This was all because of him – because he didn’t fight hard enough.   
“But you know… we made it, and you’re home,” she reached over to his hand where it rested on the table, “and we’re not going to lose you again.”  
Taylor didn’t respond to that. He needed to know what was happening with Fenton and Eric first.   
“How long can you stay?” he asked, knowing she’d have to get back to the kids.  
“I don’t know,” Natalie shook her head, “they’re not sure how long you have to either. You might have to go to hospital yet.”  
“Hospital?” Taylor frowned.  
“Look at you, Taylor,” she frowned, “they’re surprised you’re even functional. You need nourishment, and maybe the food they give you won’t be enough.”  
“When they decide to feed me,” Taylor looked over his shoulder to the mirror again, “but I promise, it might look bad right now, but I don’t feel terrible. I’ll be okay.”


	135. Chapter 135

“Where’s my brother?!” Zac demanded as he burst through the doors, momentum from the crowd of press he’d fought through outside still running through his veins.  
“Zac Hanson,” a familiar officer came to meet him, “did somebody call you?”  
“My wife,” he replied, not in the mood for disruption, “she was with Nat when they came to the… where is she? Where’s Tay?”  
“Natalie has just gone in with him,” the smaller female officer attempted to hush him, at the same time leading him through the offices to get out of the main lobby and away from the public sector, “come and have a talk with Officer Dawkes.”  
“I don’t want to talk, I want to see my brother!”  
“Mr Hanson, calm down,” she insisted, “we can’t let you see him if you’re going to exasperate him.”  
“What?” Zac frowned.  
She led him into the same office Natalie had gone into where Dawkes stood waiting. Zac looked between them awkwardly.  
“Take a seat,” Dawkes insisted.  
Zac paused, the brick wall at least helping him to calm down, before he rolled his eyes and took a seat.   
“Who did it?” he demanded, folding his arms.  
“We need to talk about Taylor, first.”  
“Do you have them in custody, or should we be worried?” Zac pointed out that he wasn’t asking for nothing.  
“There’s nothing to worry about,” Dawkes insisted.  
“So you have them in custody?”  
“Yes,” the female officer behind him closed the door.  
Zac breathed a little easier at that.   
“So how is he?”

*

“Where are the kids?” Taylor asked, his arms folded against his chest again.  
“At home,” Natalie replied, not having moved, “with Kate.”  
“And Zac?” his interest peaked.  
“I told Kate to call him,” she promised, “he was at the studio this morning.”  
“Really?” Taylor hadn’t expected that, “with Ike?”  
“I’m not sure,” she replied honestly, “Ike hasn’t been around much. He’s been working, just not with us.”  
Taylor nodded, a little surprised at that. He supposed he shouldn’t be considering what he’d seen them doing on the news here and there. They’d certainly managed to stay active one way or another, with or without the band.  
“Is Kate alone?” he suddenly thought out loud.  
“She has Ezra and Penny, why?”  
Taylor felt goose bumps start to crawl across his skin and he looked back toward the mirror.   
“What is it?” Natalie sat up in her seat.  
Taylor stood and made his way to the door, slight urgency in his step. He paused at the door handle with his hand extended just short of it.  
He hadn’t opened a door in twelve months. The last time he’d even touched a doorknob had been when he’d first tried to escape. Would it even open?  
“Tay?”  
Natalie’s voice snapped him out of it and he finally took hold and – letting out his breath – opened the door. As expected a trio of officers stood outside at the ready.  
“Someone needs to go to my house,” he looked between them, his face flushing red as he suddenly avoided eye contact halfway through his announcement.  
“What for?” Penkett demanded as another immediately walked away.  
“Eric threatened my family,” Taylor’s eyes rose as far as his chest, “with Nat here, the kids are with my sister-in-law. I don’t know how well she’d fend off an attack if he plans to keep his word.”  
Penkett nodded to the other officer who also made his way down the hall. He then put a hand on Taylor’s shoulder in an effort to calm him.  
“Did you find him yet?” Taylor asked.  
“No,” Penkett replied, making Taylor cringe as Natalie came to the door behind him, “Fenton did not have a neighbour named Eric.”  
“But you saw him!” Taylor finally looked up, “when you had them under surveillance! He helped Fenton move the chest!”  
“And we are looking for that individual,” Penkett insisted, “but without a name it’s not going to happen right away.”  
“He lied about his name,” Taylor realised, before jumping as Natalie took him by the arm.  
“Who are we talking about?” she asked warily, sliding her hand down to take his.  
“I’ll leave you alone,” Penkett gave Taylor a nod before stepping away.  
“Are Zac’s kids there too?” Taylor quickly thought to ask Natalie.  
“Yeah,” she shrugged.  
“There’s eight,” he called after Penkett, “there should be eight kids at the house!”  
After watching him disappear, Taylor pulled Natalie back into the room and closed the door.  
“Tell me what’s going on,” she was already starting to lose patience.  
“Fenton wasn’t alone,” Taylor kept his hands on the door, his eyes on the light switch.  
“What do you mean, he wasn’t alone?” Natalie frowned, “was his wife in on it?”  
“He’s not married,” Taylor shook his head, “he is well and truly homosexual.”  
“Then who?! Taylor just say it!”  
“He had a neighbour who found me one day,” Taylor didn’t bother turning around, “only I didn’t know it was his neighbour at the time. He was helping him. Encouraging, even.”  
“Another man,” Natalie again couldn’t keep the venom from her voice.  
“Yes, and his wife,” Taylor didn’t want to go into details, “but they haven’t been able to find him. He gave me a fake name so it might be hard.”  
“You’re worried about him.”  
Taylor nodded, not wanting to say why. As he finally stood up from leaning against the door, he leant over to switch off the lights.  
“What are you doing?” Natalie was a little nervous.  
“The light hurts my eyes,” Taylor admitted softly, hoping the officers wouldn’t mind.  
He figured he had at least a few minutes’ grace.  
“Why are you worried about this other man?” Natalie wanted to ignore it for his sake but she couldn’t.  
Taylor bit his lip before finally stepping away from the door. He didn’t want to tell her.  
“He might be a problem,” was all he could muster, hoping she wouldn’t ask more.


	136. Chapter 136

Zac’s eyes shot to the door as a commotion was heard outside and the female officer opened it to see what was going on. As soon as he heard the name ‘Hanson’ mentioned he shot to his feet.  
“Zac, stay here,” Dawkes insisted.  
“What’s going on?” he demanded as the other officer stepped out.  
She paused before turning back and leaning in so Dawkes could see her.  
“It’s nothing, keep going,” she insisted before closing the door again – this time staying outside.  
Zac grit his teeth before turning back. Dawkes was indicating the seat.  
“How soon do we need a lawyer?” he thought to ask as he sat down.  
“I would think as soon as possible would be best,” Dawkes considered, “we’re more worried about your brother’s wellbeing for now. We’ll get to the legal side later.”  
“So how’s he doing?” Zac rubbed his face, not really wanting to ask and just wanting to see for himself.  
“Very well considering,” Dawkes assured, “however he will need a lot of treatments, initially to get him healthy again and then further forward in the psychological field.”  
“How bad is it?”  
“Physically your brother is very weak. His body has started the process of breaking down, and he doesn’t have much – if any – fat left on him. If it had gone on much longer under those conditions he may have indeed starved to death.”  
“Was it on purpose?” Zac frowned, “were they trying to hurt him?”  
“We’re still getting details of the actual abuse, we don’t know how he was treated just yet. We’re letting him have some time with his wife for now.”  
Zac nodded at that.  
“But we will work to get as many details from him as possible for his own benefit while attempting to not distress him further. It’s very early yet, he has only been here for a couple of hours.”  
“So…” Zac wasn’t sure where they were going yet.  
“Just be careful when you speak with him,” Dawkes insisted, “don’t be demanding, don’t ask anything directly related to the abuse that might make him uncomfortable. The last thing we need is for him to close up and not get us a just conviction.”  
“Do we know who did it?”  
“We do,” Dawkes assured, “and they are in custody in another county.”  
“Good,” Zac scoffed, hoping that knowledge would be helping his brother already.  
Dawkes looked toward the door before standing from his seat.  
“Wait here,” he insisted before Zac could follow suit, “I’ll check on them and come and get you when they’re ready.”  
Zac waited until he’d closed the door behind him before groaning in frustration.

*

“Is he dangerous?” Natalie was demanding.  
Taylor didn’t know what to say to that. Thankfully he was saved by a short knock on the door before it opened. He worried for a moment they were going to tell him to turn the lights back on as he and Natalie could now see through the window into the dimly lit hall outside.  
“Zac’s here,” the officer informed them, not bothering to come all the way inside.  
“I thought he might come straight down, thank you,” Natalie nodded, and the officer stepped away leaving the door open.  
“Did they call him?” Taylor asked, suddenly feeling nervous though he wasn’t sure why.  
“I asked Kate to call around. She would have called him first.”  
Taylor nodded at that and started rubbing his hands together. Natalie watched him for a moment before reaching forward to take them.  
“Are you okay with seeing him now?” she asked worriedly.  
“Of course,” he insisted, “it’s just… it’s been a long time. The longest, in fact.”  
“Zac’s been a big help,” Natalie assured, “when I was going to pieces… I don’t know what I would have done without him or Kate. He organised the lawyers, the PIs…”  
“The PIs?” Taylor picked up on, “you went to private investigators?”  
“Of course,” Natalie shrugged, “the police couldn’t find you. You had to be somewhere. They never even found your car.”  
“And the PI didn’t find anything?” Taylor guessed.  
“We hired two of the best and neither came up with anything,” she shook her head, “they were just as dumbfounded as we were.”  
“I’d love to know what he did with my car,” Taylor shook his head, attempting to focus on something mundane to calm his nerves, “he never told me, and he’s the only one who knows where it is.”  
“I’m sure they’ll get it out of him,” Natalie gently rubbed his arm, “he can’t hold out forever.”  
“I don’t know about that,” Taylor was thinking of how many times he’d questioned Fenton of his own accord.  
Natalie didn’t know what to say, so said nothing. He knew Fenton better after all. He always had.  
He jumped when they heard a throat clearing in the doorway. When he turned to see who it was, he instantly felt his eyes tearing up.  
Zac didn’t wait and pulled his brother into his arms. Natalie stood back to let them have their moment, verging on tears herself. They took quite a while before both took a deep breath.  
“Hey Tay,” Zac broke the silence.  
“Hey,” Taylor broke into an awkward laugh before finally pulling back from the hug.  
“You look like shit.”  
“Zac,” Natalie scorned, but it had made Taylor laugh again.  
“Yeah, I know,” he insisted, wiping at his eyes.   
“I’ll go and see about getting you something to eat,” Natalie put a hand on his shoulder before excusing herself.  
A bit taken aback, Taylor stared after her as she walked through the door. He didn’t want her to leave.  
“So are you okay?” Zac soon distracted him, “I mean… you look like vultures wouldn’t even be interested in you.”  
“Thanks,” Taylor smirked, “I feel fine. I’m just tired and hungry.”  
“When’s the last time you ate?”  
“This morning-“  
“And why is it so dark in here?”  
“Don’t!” Taylor yelped before Zac could hit the light switch.  
He paused with his finger just inches from it, before wincing internally and stepping back.  
“Sorry,” he quickly apologised, “they’re off for a reason I take it?”  
Taylor wasn’t sure how to answer at first, but he was gladly distracted when Natalie appeared in the doorway again.  
“They’re bringing you something over from the hospital,” she informed them, “and… Ike’s here.”


	137. Chapter 137

“What’s going on?”  
Zac couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Isaac this hyperactive. It had to be during a song writing session. Well over a year ago.  
“I tried calling you. I tried calling Nat-“  
“Nat’s in with him,” Zac explained, “I… didn’t hear my phone. Sorry. Where were you?”  
“I was on my way home, I didn’t hear the phone,” Isaac shrugged, “I pulled up in the driveway and had a bunch of messages from Kate and Nicole. I hightailed it to the station, except it was the wrong station. I saw all the press out front and assumed he was there but it turned out Fenton was…”  
“Wait, Fenton?” Zac frowned, “Doctor Fenton was there?”  
“…Yeah,” Isaac grit his teeth, “sorry, they didn’t tell you?”  
Zac felt his face flush red. It wasn’t from embarrassment. He was furious.  
“No, they didn’t,” he managed to hold it together, “it’s been hectic. And they’re trying not to upset Tay at all.”  
“Oh. Well, they told me not to tell the press but I think some of them knew. A few were badgering me outside for info but I don’t know anything yet!”  
“Apparently you know more than I do,” Zac muttered, looking over his shoulder to where a crowd had gathered nearby.  
He paused for a moment before pulling Isaac into the room Dawkes had taken him to.   
“What did they tell you?” he asked as he closed the door.  
“Not much,” Isaac scratched at his beard, “they thought I was there because of Fenton and weren’t happy. I had to tell them I didn’t know where Tay was and they told me to come here.”  
“It doesn’t make sense,” Zac shook his head, mostly talking to himself.  
“What doesn’t?” Isaac was already confused.  
“Fenton,” Zac gave him an awkward glance.  
“That Fenton did it?” Isaac’s eyebrows rose, “Zac you hated the guy from the start. You actually had it right!”  
“Yeah I know, but…” Zac looked visibly uncomfortable, “just wait until you see him. Then you’ll know what I mean.”  
“Why?” Isaac frowned, worried now.  
Zac looked to the closed door, figuring he should save the police the trouble and give Isaac the brief himself.  
“He’s not in a good way,” he revealed, “which is probably a given considering what he’s been through. But he looks very different, and… you kinda need to prepare yourself for it.”  
The look on Isaac’s face didn’t change.  
“Basically it looks like he hasn’t eaten in a year,” Zac shrugged, “they’re bringing him some food over from the hospital so I guess they don’t want him eating McDonalds just yet.”  
“Whoa,” Isaac ran his fingers through his hair.  
“Yeah that about covers it. He’s also kind’ve… he’s not being stand-offish, from what I saw, he’s just kinda quiet I guess? So you just gotta be careful with what you say to him and how. Not talk about what happened unless he wants you to and all that.”  
Isaac bit his lip, but nodded. He wanted to know everything. He wanted to know how his brother hadn’t been able to fight his way out. They’d always been convinced that Taylor was physically the strongest of the three of them, and now… who knew?  
“You’ve seen him, right?”  
“Yeah but not for long. I went in just before Nat came and said you were here.”  
“I didn’t see her,” he shook his head, “but it was hard getting inside.”  
“Tell me about it. I think it’s going to be even harder getting out.”  
Both brothers looked to the door, unsure if they were ready to leave just yet.  
“Think they’ll let me see him?” Isaac asked.  
“I’m not sure how many people they’ll let see him at once, he was kinda worked up when I saw him,” Zac shrugged.  
“Worked up how?”  
“I dunno he was upset by something, and then he saw me.”  
“This is weird, man.”  
“Should we try?” Zac aimed for the door.  
Isaac just shrugged, not sure if he was even ready to see Taylor.  
Just hours earlier he’d been convinced his brother was dead. He had been for a long time.  
Zac opened the door to see the commotion outside had settled. He indicated for Isaac to follow him, and led him to the hall with the interview rooms. There were again a couple of officers outside the room with no lights on, but they were carefully standing to the side of the one-way mirror so the people inside couldn’t see them.  
“Isaac,” one of them nodded to him.  
“How’s he going?” Isaac asked in a soft voice, not sure if those inside could hear him or not.  
“He’s calmed down a bit,” the officer assured, “just giving him some time to eat. Wait a moment then you can go in.”  
“Both of us?” Zac wanted to be sure as Isaac nodded.  
“One at a time would be better. We don’t want to crowd him. We’re not sure how much human interaction he’s had this past year.”  
Isaac scratched at his beard again suddenly feeling even more awkward. But before anyone else moved the door opened of its own accord.  
Natalie popped her head out.  
“Hey,” she smiled when she saw Isaac.  
“How is he?” he asked.  
Natalie looked back into the room before indicating for Isaac to come in. Zac stepped aside as Isaac nervously did so.   
Taylor had looked up from where he sat at the table as soon as he’d heard Isaac’s voice. They’d brought him over two basic sandwiches from the hospital, of which he hadn’t quite been able to finish one, along with a drink that tasted horrible but was supposed to help his system somehow.  
He stood up when his elder brother appeared.  
“Hey,” Isaac began, almost closing the door behind him.  
“Hey,” Taylor paused by the table, unsure of what to do.  
Isaac’s eyes couldn’t help but look his brother over. He had to be a weight he hadn’t been since he was a teenager. Despite Taylor having been a skinny child, he’d never seen so much bone.  
“Are you okay?” Taylor asked, well aware he was being sized up.  
Isaac shook his head, not wanting to say no but unable to get any actual words out. Taylor could feel his heart skip a beat, but took the initiative and stepped forward to pull Isaac into a tight hug.  
Isaac immediately broke into tears.  
“I thought we’d lost you,” was all he could eventually get out.


	138. Chapter 138

“I talked to Kate,” Natalie returned to the room sometime later.  
“Are they okay?” Taylor wasn’t sure he was going to trust her answer one way or another.  
Isaac stood from the opposite chair and stepped aside, wondering if he should leave.  
“They’re fine,” Natalie insisted, slipping her phone into her jacket pocket, “Jess and Joe are there. Jess was deciding whether or not to come down. The police showed up just after they did.”  
“It may be better to leave the visitors for now,” a female officer stepped into the room before setting her gaze on Taylor, “Ms Davey would like another word before she leaves for the day.”  
“I’ll be right outside,” Isaac pointedly told his brother before leaving the room.  
“Want me to stay?” Natalie offered as the officer signalled Davey.  
Taylor panicked for a moment, not expecting to have to make the decision. On the one hand he didn’t want her leaving his sight. On the other, he wasn’t sure she was ready to know anything Davey wanted to talk about.  
“I’ll be outside the door if you need me,” she made the decision for him as Davey and Penkett made their way in, “I’m not going anywhere.”  
She smiled as the door closed behind her, and Taylor finally caught his breath again.  
“Mr Hanson,” Davey took his attention as Penkett flipped the lights on again.  
Taylor flinched and shielded his eyes as he took up post beside her.  
“We have a few things to talk about before moving onto more important matters tomorrow, after you’ve had some rest,” she tried to sound reassuring.  
He grunted in acknowledgment.  
“The first is that you’re going to be asked to make a statement, and you need to prepare for that.”  
“What kind of statement?” he asked, still not looking up.  
“Your victim statement,” Penkett responded bluntly, “detailing the events preceding and during your detainment.”  
“As much as you can remember,” Davey insisted as Taylor finally looked up in worry, “obviously it’s a long time to cover and a lot of things may have happened, but wherever you can we need explicit detail along with names and dates.”  
“I don’t have any names other than the ones I already gave, and they’re wrong,” Taylor shook his head.  
“Descriptions then,” Penkett added curtly, “of anyone you came into contact with, particularly at Fenton’s party.”  
“I didn’t see anyone, I told you I was blindfolded,” Taylor scorned.  
“You must have been able to tell them apart. Some kind of defining feature.”  
Taylor just shook his head, not knowing how to explain. Give him moulds of the men’s genitals and maybe he could guess, but he couldn’t even be sure what their voices had sounded like anymore. On top of that the added knowledge that he’d been drugged and his memory may not be accurate to begin with.  
“We will worry about that tomorrow,” Davey insisted after a moment of silence, “tonight the detectives would like from you anything you can think of that might help them locate the man you called ‘Eric’.”  
Taylor’s eyes shot to her. He couldn’t remember what he’d already given them, but surely knowing his address should have been enough?  
“Like what?” he used his hand like a visor to block the light.  
“Anything you remember,” Penkett pressed, “anything he said to you, around you, that may lead us to his whereabouts.”  
“I don’t know anything except where he lives,” Taylor shook his head dismally, “and I know he has contacts in the media, and maybe the police. I don’t know.”  
“The police?” Penkett’s eyebrows rose.  
“Please tell me you found the girl,” Taylor begged worriedly, “the one he had in his dungeon. She was terrified. I don’t know what he’d do to her if I’ve pissed him off by leaving.”  
“They haven’t, no,” Davey sounded regretful but unsure.  
“The house was empty,” Penkett informed him, “no one present, and clean of personal effects. No computers, tablets, vehicles or even clothing.”  
Taylor gave him a blank stare. Eric wouldn’t have had time to clean the house out. Between Taylor having left his home and being found by the FBI, it had easily been less than five hours.  
But then Taylor hadn’t seen the house on the way out. He wasn’t entirely sure how long he’d spent in Eric’s cell. It had certainly felt like forever.  
“In fact we never found a dungeon at all,” Penkett almost sounded as though he didn’t believe it had been there in the first place.  
Taylor picked up on it quickly.  
“I know what I saw,” he stated bluntly, “I was there less than twelve hours ago.”  
“Perhaps it’s been cleared,” Davey suggested, “perhaps it was mistaken for a garage?”  
“No,” Taylor shook his head, “there’s no way you could mistake it for anything. He had cells built into the walls. There was plumbing. There’s no way half of that stuff could have fit through the door.”  
He put his head in his hands as he tried to remember when Eric’s wife had first let him in. Maybe if he could guide the officers through the house they’d be able to find it easier…  
“Are you sure he didn’t say anything this morning about what he was going to do during the day?” Penkett wasn’t letting him rest for a second.  
Taylor stopped to think, avoiding eye contact as his hands fidgeted.   
“This morning he was too busy threatening to dig up my corpse once Fenton kills me,” he said in a surprisingly placid tone, “and being annoyed that Fenton wouldn’t let him shoot me. He didn’t want Fenton to take me home.”  
“Well it’s just as well he did,” Davey offered a small smile, “or they wouldn’t have gotten the search warrant.”  
Taylor found it odd to think that Fenton’s obsession with keeping him close would be the thing that would eventually be his downfall. It still didn’t seem real, that he wasn’t just in the basement and dreaming all of this. Much like the moments he’d convinced himself that the only life he’d ever known had been with Fenton and the life outside was just a dream world he’d made up to escape.  
Unless Natalie was in the room. Unless his brothers were in the room. Then he knew. He knew the difference between what he’d been longing for these past twelve months and what was finally in front of him.  
“Is he okay?” he suddenly asked.  
“Who?” Penkett frowned.  
“Fenton,” Taylor paused, but eventually looked up, “how is he?”  
“They have him on suicide watch, but he isn’t going anywhere,” Penkett insisted, “from last contact the only thing he’s asked for is his lawyer.”  
Taylor nodded, his eyes falling to the table. Did that mean he hadn’t even asked about him?  
Did he even care anymore?


	139. Chapter 139

Taylor was resting his chin on his arms when it happened. Davey and Penkett’s voices had long turned into a drone, and he looked up as the door unexpectedly opened. On the other side of it was Eric. He raised the gun he had in his hand to point it directly at Taylor.  
He pulled the trigger.  
Taylor was suddenly in a cold sweat. He was in the dark, and sitting up on a trundle bed.  
His eyes shot to the other side of the room where he could hear heavy breathing, and he was finally able to remind himself that he was no longer even in the interview room.  
Instead he was in a room toward the back of the station, under guard, where he’d finally been able to get some sleep. Zac had even opted to stay the night.  
Focusing on the familiar sound of Zac’s breathing pattern, he forced himself to lay down again. He couldn’t imagine falling asleep again right now but it was obvious he was exhausted. He hadn’t slept much in Eric’s cell, and the following events had only served to stress him out further.   
It had been hard to say goodbye to Natalie, but they’d both known she had to get back home. He wondered if she’d told the kids. He wondered if the media had told them already before she could.  
He hadn’t seen a television since getting here, and he’d already admitted to himself that he found it unnerving. He thought about asking for at least a radio the following day if they were going to keep him at the station. They were still hinting about transferring him to the hospital but no one had said when. Taylor felt slightly worried about leaving the station at all considering he’d already been able to let his guard down and had taken the station to be some sort of safe haven for him.  
He started breathing easier as his purple vision kicked in and he could faintly make out Zac’s shape on the other bunk. The only light in the room came from a small crack under the door which occasionally disappeared for a moment as people outside walked past. Being at the far end of the station they couldn’t hear much noise, but the occasional shouts from the public lobby would echo down the hall.   
The sounds were so different it was a little disorienting. It didn’t help him convince himself that it was real. Right now all that was keeping him grounded was the sound of his brother’s breathing and light snoring. Zac had said to wake him if he needed anything, but Taylor didn’t want to bother him. He’d spent so long training himself not to disturb Fenton after vivid nightmares while they shared the same bed that not waking his brother across the room seemed easy enough.   
His mind turning to the statement he’d have to make the following morning made him eventually sit up again. He’d had enough trouble initially trying to get to sleep while thinking about it to know he wouldn’t be able to just go back. If someone were to put an empty pad and pencil in front of him, he’d have no idea of where to start. When he took Willa to the office? The events of the morning before that? The first moment he realised Fenton had attacked him?  
He remembered vividly the needle going into his neck. He remembered the stoic look on Fenton’s face when he’d backed off. The rest of the time in that office was a blur. He remembered trying to take Willa and Fenton had stopped him somehow. He didn’t remember falling asleep.  
He thought he remembered waking up, but he wasn’t sure. Something he did remember clear as anything was the moment he realised Fenton was going to break his ankle, and being both verbally and physically unable to do anything about it.  
He absently started biting at his nails as he wondered how exactly to convey that sort of thing. He had so many more horrible things to cover and he was already stuck on day one. He wasn’t sure he wanted anyone to know that Willa was in the room the first time he’d been raped. He didn’t want her growing up knowing that. She was already going to know that she’d basically been Fenton’s bait.  
“You okay?”  
Taylor jumped and his eyes shot across to Zac. He wasn’t sitting up but he could tell that he was awake. A soft glint told him his brother’s eyes were on him.  
“I don’t know,” he answered honestly.  
At least it had interrupted his nail biting. But he felt bad for somehow having woken Zac.  
Zac sighed and pushed himself up into a sit, rubbing his eyes as he tried to wake himself up.  
“Just thinking about tomorrow,” Taylor offered, a slight hint that he should go back to sleep.  
“They won’t expect you to remember everything right off the bat,” Zac assured.  
“I hope not,” Taylor smirked, “or I’m in trouble.”  
He hung his head as he started fidgeting again.   
“Just gotta take it one step at a time, no one’s going to fault you if you forget things,” Zac shrugged.  
Both of them looked to the door as they heard someone walk past. Even in the dark Zac could see his brother tense every time it happened.   
“The lawyer will help you through it I’m sure,” he added, in an attempt to keep him focused.  
Taylor nodded to himself.   
“I think it’s just going to be weird,” he admitted, “talking about it and giving it… I don’t know, giving it life? Validating it?”  
“You’d prefer to think of it as never having happened?” Zac’s eyebrows rose.  
“I know that’s impossible,” Taylor was rubbing his wrist, “but it’s the only thing keeping me sane right now.”  
“Are you hurt?” Zac noticed.  
“I’m not sure,” Taylor replied honestly.  
He’d always assumed the restraints had pulled at his wrist muscles, and he knew the handcuffs had left a hopefully non-permanent indent, but having spent over twelve hours with free wrists the fact that they still hurt as much as they did was a little worrying.   
“Did you tell the doctor guy?”  
Taylor winced a little, his mind immediately going to Fenton. He had to force himself to recognise that Zac was talking about the paramedic’s evaluation.  
“Not about this,” he admitted, “I didn’t even think…”  
Zac threw his covers aside and sat up so his feet touched the floor. He sighed again as he leant forward over his knees.  
“Do you need someone tonight?”  
“No,” Taylor scoffed, “no, I’m fine.”  
They sat in silence for a time. Taylor was happy just to be in his brother’s presence, but Zac’s curiosity was boiling over. Despite multiple warnings to the contrary he decided in his barely-conscious state that he needed to know…  
“Tay? Did Fenton…?”  
He bit his lip as he couldn’t bring himself to say the words out loud. Everyone had pretty much insinuated what had happened, but Taylor hadn’t confirmed it as yet.  
“I mean, did he…”  
“Did he rape me?” Taylor finished for him.  
Zac blushed, glad that it was dark. But he nodded.  
“Yeah, he did,” Taylor diverted his eyes again, “just don’t ask me how many times.”  
He gulped a little once he’d said it. It had been harder to get out than he’d expected.


	140. Chapter 140

“On your behalf, and of course with your wife’s consent, I’ve lodged a gag order on the media to the courts which should be going through as soon as their offices open this morning. The rumour mill is already working overtime and we want to put a stop to that before it can create bias among the community and we spend an extra few months just on jury selection. I have a meeting with Doctor Fenton’s lawyer this afternoon to work out preliminary standings and what angles the defence may be looking at to use against us. However you do so far have the State on your side so I don’t foresee too much to worry about in that respect.”  
Taylor’s head was in his hand, subtly shielding his eyes from the light once again. He’d never met this man before – he wasn’t their regular financial lawyer – but he’d come highly recommended and had dealt with both Natalie and Zac’s legal rights in regards to his disappearance over the past year. He knew what he was getting into and he knew the family well enough already.  
“Unless of course they can somehow prove that you went voluntarily which I don’t see happening. I’ve been briefed on the conditions you were found in according to the FBI’s official statement and I am aware the crime was sexual in nature. Also that there appears to be more people involved who are still on the lam. As far as my involvement goes I’m not interested in anything but you and your story for now, and once we have it all penned down I plan to go over it with a fine tooth comb and distinguish exactly what charges we need to bring to the board, how many, and just how severe. I will most likely be aiming for compensation for yourself and for your family and of course the highest punishment the Oklahoma courts will allow for Doctor Fenton, but for now we just need to get the preliminaries out of the way so we can get down to business.”  
Taylor sat up in his seat as the lawyer began shuffling paperwork, unsure if he had to be paying attention or not. He was still running on very little sleep and it made concentrating on anything hard. Particularly when a lot of it involved intricate technicalities and his brain was well out of practise when it came to puzzle solving.  
The lawyer handed him a large notepad and two pens, quickly checking that both worked before handing them over.   
“How soon do you expect this done?” Taylor asked, taking one of them and already nervously fidgeting with the click.  
“I’m not going to rush you,” the lawyer insisted, “it is up to you how long it takes. But the longer you leave it the longer everything sits in limbo.”  
“I just mean… it’s over a year,” Taylor reasoned, looking worried, “I could write a novel recounting everything that happened. That’s not going to happen in a day.”  
The lawyer was already nodding.  
“And there’s no guarantee that I’ll remember everything right away. What if I remember things later on and the other side is like ‘well you didn’t say that before’ and uses it against us?”  
“That is a risk, I won’t lie to you,” he shrugged, “but at the same time, as you said, a year has passed. Undoubtedly you would have spent a great deal of that time under a lot of stress. Stress plays with the mind and you may even recount moments of that time years from now. All we’re asking of this particular statement…”  
He tapped the notepad with a determined finger.  
“…Is at least a basic outline of the main forms of abuse the doctor bestowed on you. Any time he hurt you will fall under a separate charge. Any time he hit you, humiliated you, raped you, or any form of psychological distress you were put under, they all fall under different nuances and each charge needs to be looked at separately and in its own right.”  
Taylor rubbed at his eyes again, his mind in a whirl.  
“This is why these cases are so drawn out I’m afraid,” the lawyer offered as a kind of solace, “I can only imagine exactly how many times you were hurt in all those months. But you need to be as clear and concise with each infraction as you possibly can, and every little step – every little morsel you give us – will help the prosecution more than you think.”  
“I don’t know how I can be expected to remember every single time he hit me,” Taylor pointed out, already starting to stress, “he hit me if I woke him up. He hit me if I did something wrong. He hit me if he wasn’t satisfied with an attack.”  
He paused and covered his mouth, not wanting to say the next part out loud but knowing he had to.  
“How am I supposed to remember exactly how many times he raped me, if it probably averaged out to once or twice a day over the span of a whole year? It was hundreds!”  
“You just said it,” the lawyer shrugged, “you’ve already worked out an average. Start from there. Narrow down time frames to make it easier for yourself. Was there a time when he was more likely to attack you as opposed to a time when he wouldn’t? Don’t look at a blank sheet of paper and think ‘something happened here, something happened there, I don’t know what happened in the middle therefore I don’t know where to start’. Limit yourself to say… December 2013. You have certain milestones for most months of the year that you can use, Christmas and the New Year for example, and once you start with those you’ll find it much easier to fill in the blanks surrounding them.”  
Taylor nodded at that, seeing where he was going with it. He knew he’d have to start with taking Willa to the surgery but he wasn’t exactly sure where to start there either.  
“I will leave you to it,” the lawyer began to pack his things, “if you need anything further, your wife has my number. I will be on call anytime unless I am inside the courthouse.”  
“Thank you,” Taylor set the pen down, knowing he didn’t have to rush now.  
He had no idea where Natalie or Zac had found this guy, but he was glad they had. He’d done a lot toward putting Taylor’s mind at ease already. Being business-minded himself, getting ‘to work’ even if that work was unconventional was just what his mind needed.   
He gave the man a nod as he left the room, leaving the door open. He knew Natalie had been waiting outside, opting to give them some privacy in case anything sensitive had come up. She came back into the room now and set a paper bag on the counter.  
“I was talking to some doctors over at the hospital this morning…”  
“You were at the hospital?” Taylor immediately looked worried.  
“Hush. I was asking them about what you could and couldn’t eat, because they haven’t done your full evaluation yet. They gave me a couple of hints so I came up with these.”  
She pulled some containers from the bag and set them on the table. Taylor covered his mouth as he looked them over, already seeing some of the homemade foods he’d been longing for so badly.  
“Start from this end,” she set a finger on one container, “and work your way back. If anything doesn’t agree with you, don’t eat it. We need to keep to the basics for a while just until we know for sure what you can handle. They’re bringing some more of that horrible drink over later too.”  
“God I love you.”  
She paused when she realised he was staring up at her. He didn’t realise himself until he’d spoken.  
“Thank you,” he diverted his eyes.  
“You’re welcome,” she folded the paper bag and set it aside on the table, “I think you pretty much have the room to yourself for the day, seeing as you have a lot of work to do. I can stay or I can go, it’s up to you. I don’t think Davey’s due back for a few hours…”


	141. Chapter 141

“Hey,” Isaac greeted as he stepped into the room with a satchel in hand.  
“Hey,” Taylor looked up from his writing.  
He was already learning not to jump when someone walked in. He still would if they broke his concentration, but otherwise he was slowly getting used to the constant comings and goings.  
“How was today?” Isaac asked as he set the bag in an empty space on the desk.  
“Ah… trying,” Taylor settled on a word as he took a seat opposite, “just been trying to get my head around everything still.”  
“Yeah I know what you mean,” Isaac agreed, before wincing, “sorry. I mean I don’t know what you mean. I mean I do, just…”  
“Not in the same respect, I get it,” Taylor mused, running his fingers up and down the pen.  
They both stared down at the pad for a moment in silence. Taylor not knowing what to say, and Isaac not wanting to ask about it.  
“Was Nat here?” he eventually asked.  
“You just missed her,” Taylor nodded, “she’s gone home for the night.”  
“Did she not want to stay?”  
“Oh she wanted to,” he shrugged, “but it’s better she stays with the kids. At least until I can see them.”  
“Are they not letting you?” Isaac frowned.  
“It’s not that, we’re just not sure they’re ready,” Taylor was obviously unsure, “I mean it’s hard to gauge, but… I know there’s been mixed reactions between them about it already and Nat’s having enough trouble keeping the peace. I was thinking of talking to Ezra over the phone but the cops prefer Nat brings them here, and I’m just not sure any of them are ready to see…”  
He shook his head.  
“I’m not sure they’re ready to see this,” he admitted, stopping to rub his face.  
“It’s not _that_ bad,” Isaac tried to reason, “I mean it’s a shock at first, sure. But they’ll come around just like we have.”  
“I guess they’ll have to won’t they,” Taylor kept his eyes down, still planning to put it off for as long as he felt able.  
Isaac nodded, before reaching for the satchel.  
“Speaking of home,” he rummaged through it, “I thought I’d bring a couple of things we had at the studio over. For you know, if you need a distraction or something.”  
Taylor watched as he fumbled, his eyes involuntarily widening a little when the first thing his brother pulled out was his iPod.  
“I left that at the studio?” he immediately reached for it.  
“It was there,” Isaac shrugged going back into the bag, “I’m gonna assume you’re the one who left it there.”  
Taylor took hold of it and turned it on to check the battery. It was full, so he figured Isaac must have charged it. His brother pulled out a set of his headphones to follow along with some of Taylor’s preferred notepads and pens.  
“Did you just… raid the studio for all my stuff?” Taylor smirked.  
“Anything I thought they’d let me bring in,” Isaac smiled as he checked for anything left, “the bad news? They said no to a keyboard.”  
Taylor chuckled at that, rolling his eyes as he tried to remember the last time he’d played.  
“I don’t even remember the last time I touched keys,” he finally admitted, shaking his head.  
“Two days before…” Isaac trailed off, pausing when he realised how quick he’d answered.  
He bit his lip as Taylor’s eyebrows rose before deciding to just go for it.  
“We were working on a song and you went from keys to guitar and didn’t go back because we started on the drum tracks. Zac was recording when-“  
“When I left, I know,” Taylor sat his head in his hand again.  
It hadn’t occurred to him until now just how much time his brothers would have spent going over those last few days in their minds. Wondering if there’d been any signs leading up to his disappearance.   
Once again he felt guilty for what he must have put them through.  
“I’m sorry I gave up on you.”  
Taylor looked up to see a solemn look on his brother’s face. He suddenly worried about what look must have been on his.  
“Don’t be,” he shook his head, “I gave up on me too.”  
“You know Zac never did,” Isaac jumped on the subject change, “neither did Nat.”  
“I always hoped,” Taylor shrugged, keeping his eyes down again, “but with everything I was being told… I didn’t know for sure.”  
“He kept you updated?” Isaac frowned.  
“Not really. He just dropped hints here and there. But he had this weird set of rules, and one of them was that I couldn’t contact anyone – even send a Christmas card. I imagine it was a rule Eric told him but at the time it just felt like… if you guys had confirmation that I was alive you’d keep looking, and maybe if you didn’t… you wouldn’t.”  
“They never stopped looking,” Isaac assured, “just not as active as they were at first, as you could understand.”  
Taylor nodded sullenly.  
“But Zac and Natalie made sure they never stopped. They ever gave up. They never thought you were…”  
“Dead,” Taylor ended for him when he knew he couldn’t.  
He wasn’t ready to tell Isaac how close he’d come. He wasn’t really ready to tell anyone.  
He looked down at the notepad again and where he’d left off his story. He’d managed to get through Christmas and had been working on the 2014 New Year, as the lawyer had suggested.   
“Thanks, for the stuff,” he nodded to the iPod after a moment.  
“No problem,” Isaac returned the satchel to his shoulder, “thought you could use a break from the quiet here.”  
“I’ve been meaning to ask for something. A TV maybe,” he shrugged, “but I think this will be better.”  
“I’ll find the charger for it tomorrow,” Isaac offered, “or better still, I’ll call Nat and get her to bring it in the morning.”  
“You guys have been at the studio in the mornings,” Taylor’s eyes narrowed as Isaac stood.  
“Yeah,” Isaac looked a little sheepish, “but we haven’t exactly been working.”  
Taylor waited for him to elaborate and Isaac visibly winced.  
“We’ve been renovating the studio,” he admitted, “but I think you’ll like what we’ve done.”  
“Renovating?” Taylor’s eyebrows rose.  
“It’s a long story,” Isaac waved him off as he headed for the door, “will you be okay tonight?”  
“Zac’s due back soon,” Taylor nodded, “but thanks. And… thanks again.”  
Isaac offered him a small smile before disappearing down the hall.


	142. Chapter 142

“You haven’t remembered anything else?” Davey gave him a sympathetic look.  
Taylor just shook his head. It was almost a repeat of her interview the day before.  
“What about his conversations with Doctor Fenton?” Penkett suggested, “is there anything you might have overheard that would be relevant to the case?”  
“I don’t remember,” Taylor insisted, unable to stop himself being annoyed, “I only remember thinking at some point that Fenton had something over him. But I never worked out what or why they were friends outside of… this.”  
“You told us he had contacts in the police and the media,” Penkett went on, “what makes you think that?”  
“Because he proved it to me,” Taylor muttered, before frowning as he realised what they were talking about.  
His head shot up.  
“Jasmine Crockett,” he suddenly spat.  
“Who?” Davey frowned as Penkett automatically got to his feet.  
“She’s a blonde, maybe in college,” Taylor shook his head, “I don’t know how to describe her…”  
“Jasmine Crockett was a seventeen year old freshman who went missing in late August,” Penkett was speaking to Davey but his gaze was set on Taylor, “what does she mean to you?”  
“Eric took her!” Taylor insisted, “he warned me he was going to take her, and the very next morning I saw it on the news. _That’s_ how I knew he had media connections, and that’s how he threatened Nat.”  
“He threatened to take your wife?” Davey confirmed.  
“Yes, and he had photos of the two of them talking on the street to prove to me how easy it would be,” Taylor’s adrenaline was pumping, “that’s why I asked for a guard at the house.”  
“What makes you think this means he has those contacts?” Penkett demanded.  
“Because that’s how he proved it to me. And when I focused on that part of it he blew me off and said it wasn’t important.”  
“Did he say why he chose Miss Crockett?” Penkett had taken out his notepad and started writing.  
Taylor grit his teeth at that and looked back down to where his own pad sat.  
“He didn’t choose her,” he admitted, “I did.”  
“Excuse me?”  
“Did you know Miss Crockett?” Davey was intrigued.  
“No,” Taylor shook his head, “he showed me pictures. Said I had to choose one of them, but that all of them were going to be abducted anyway.”  
He ran his fingers through his hair wondering how he could possibly have forgotten for so long.  
“Why would he tell you this?” Penkett frowned.  
“It was all to prove that he could take Natalie if he wanted,” Taylor shrugged.  
“And why would he go after her after so long?”  
Taylor paused as his mind raced. He almost wasn’t sure what he’d been in trouble for that particular time. Eric’s punishments had all seemed to meld together into one big ball of torture that he had trouble pinning dates on already.  
He looked up to where the door remained closed as he wrung his hands. This was going to have to come out eventually, he knew. But he wanted to tell Natalie on his own terms – not theirs.  
“The party I mentioned…” he began.  
“In July,” Penkett was in a rush, “two months prior to what we’re talking about.”  
“They had a girl there,” Taylor looked up at him, “they called her Lacey.”  
“So now you’re remembering names?”  
Davey hushed the officer but the grim look remained on his face.  
“I didn’t find out until then, that they drugged me and had me sleep with her.”  
“How do you know that’s true?” Penkett demanded, “and why would this instigate Miss Crockett’s abduction?”  
“Because Fenton told me,” Taylor scorned, “and I overheard he and Eric talking about a pregnancy.”  
He felt the air in the room stand still. They obviously weren’t expecting that bombshell. Penkett and Davey shared a look before Davey quickly began jotting down notes.  
“This… ‘Lacey’, is pregnant to you?” Penkett confirmed.  
“Yes,” Taylor kept his eyes down, “she’d be well on six months now.”  
“And how does Lacey relate to Jasmine?” Davey asked cautiously, “do you think the same people have her?”  
“I don’t know who has her, I don’t know who has either of them,” Taylor shook his head, “Eric used Jasmine’s capture as a weird punishment for my reaction when I found out. I broke the mirror in Fenton’s basement.”  
“Weird how?”  
“Because it wasn’t about Jasmine,” Taylor looked to her, “it was about my wife.”  
“We’ll focus on this Lacey later, for now I want to focus on Miss Crockett,” Penkett insisted, “is there anything else you can tell me about Eric’s plans for her?”  
“No,” Taylor shook his head, “but I might be able to identify the other girls he planned to take. There were three of them.”  
“If I give you missing persons photos?”  
Taylor nodded, a little unsure. It had been a few months after all.  
“Great. For now we’re going to focus on who sent Crockett’s story to the media. We might find a line back to this… Eric.”  
He headed for the door. Taylor dare not get too hopeful, it was only the first minor lead they’d seemed to have after all.  
Who knew where Eric would be by now?  
“How is your recount going?” Davey asked once he was gone, and Taylor noticed that he’d left the door open.  
“It’s getting there,” he assured, “slowly, but… it’s coming. I keep remembering random things that fill in blanks here and there, I just don’t have a conscious stream to focus on.”  
“I’m sure you’re doing fine,” Davey insisted.  
“Thanks.”  
They looked up to a knock on the door and saw Natalie standing in the doorway.  
“Yes?” Davey asked.  
“I just got a call from the lawyer,” Natalie directed her attention to Taylor, “he had a meeting with Fenton’s and wants to go over it with us. With you.”  
“I’ll leave you to it,” Davey began to collect her things.  
“Did he say when?” Taylor asked, nervous already about hearing news from Fenton’s side.  
“He’s on his way, I assumed you wouldn’t be too long in here,” Natalie looked between them.  
Davey bid them both a good day before taking her leave. Once she was gone Natalie moved in.  
“I brought you some lunch and some more of that hospital drink. Along with some water this time…”


	143. Chapter 143

“What kind of things were you drinking there?” Natalie asked as Taylor started digging into his lunch.  
Maybe if she knew what he’d been accustomed to she could bring him more than just the basics.  
“Just water,” Taylor shook his head as he opened the bottle, “beer on special occasions. Wine once.”  
“Wine?” Natalie’s eyebrows rose.  
“It wasn’t voluntary,” Taylor took a drink, avoiding eye contact until he was done, “I think I had a Dr Pepper once too.”  
“Okay,” she already knew not to ask, “what about food?”  
“Very basic things,” Taylor tried to think of how to explain, “sometimes I’d just get a handful of pasta. Cooked, but not with anything. I’ve had sandwiches with a single slice of ham, usually toast for breakfast…”  
He shrugged as his eyes settled on a shadow in the hall.  
“Sometimes on the weekends he’d actually go all out on a roast or something but not often.”  
He looked up as the lawyer appeared in the doorway, awkwardly knocking softly on the door despite having already been seen.  
“Afternoon,” he greeted when Natalie turned to the knock.  
“Come on in,” she insisted, standing from the chair he usually occupied and shifting her own lunch over.  
He took a seat and set his iPad on the table.   
“Do you want me to stay for this?” Natalie asked Taylor.  
“I’m not sure you want to be here for this one,” the lawyer gave her a smile anyway, which instantly made Taylor look worried.  
Natalie nodded and collected her food.   
“Are you staying?” Taylor asked her, putting his food down as he suddenly lost his appetite.  
“I’ll be right outside as usual,” she insisted, giving him a rub on the shoulder before taking her leave.  
The lawyer set himself up but waited for the door to close before he said anything.  
“We have a few things to discuss today, along with anything from your statement so far that you can pass over…”  
“Is something wrong?” Taylor frowned, worried about his tone.  
“No, nothing unforseen,” the lawyer assured, “we’re just going to have the same problems as any regular rape case, with the added problem of it being in the public eye. The gag order has been issued but with public speculation ripe who knows what damage has already been done? Thankfully we should be able to quash the publicity stunt rumours and other such nonsense for the time being.”  
“Publicity stunt,” Taylor repeated, his eyes down.  
He hadn’t even thought of that reaction coming up. Now that the idea had surfaced he could already feel himself angered by it.  
It was a hell of a lot of torture to put himself through for a stunt.  
“What problems are we talking?” he rubbed at his face, trying to keep focused instead.  
“The usual problems with rape, and the issue of consent,” the lawyer shrugged, “sadly rape remains the only physical attack where you have to prove you weren’t asking to be hurt. I don’t doubt we can prove that Fenton was holding you against your will purely through the limited physical evidence we have at this stage, however the ability to prove that you said ‘no’ over the course of hundreds of charges may be a challenge.”  
“So I have to somehow prove that I didn’t want to be raped,” Taylor confirmed.  
“That you did not wish to have intercourse with the Doctor, yes,” the lawyer agreed, “and that you fought him every step of the way.”  
Taylor visibly flinched at his wording. He remembered saying the same words to Fenton a long time ago. Caught unawares at the memory he just shook his head and rubbed his hands together.  
“How do we do that?” he shrugged, “for the most part I couldn’t fight back. The first time he attacked me I was tied down so hard my shoulders almost came out, and I was gagged so I couldn’t say no.”  
“You couldn’t say ‘no’?” the lawyer quickly took some notes.  
Taylor shook his head.  
“Not at first,” he frowned, “but he didn’t care. He took what he wanted anyway. He started the routine early.”  
“The routine?”  
“Yeah… what he expected every day,” Taylor moved some hair out of his face, absently wondering if he really were talking about this as if it were just a regular thing, “he’d wake me up by turning the light on. He’d make breakfast before coming downstairs. Once I finished eating he’d come back just before he left for work to put the gag on…”  
“You wore a gag every day?” the lawyer frowned as he typed into the iPad.  
“Most days yes,” Taylor nodded, “because we were in suburbia and he didn’t want me making too much noise. Of course I tried but… nothing worked anyway.”  
“Go on,” he was encouraged.  
“During the day I’d watch CNN and do these exercises he taught me, to stop my muscles seizing up if I was wearing the cuffs and the shackles. I usually did them once in the morning and once in the afternoon just for something to do. He’d come home from work and come straight down to the basement and rape me.”  
“How would he do it, if you were free to roam the basement?”  
“Well… ‘free’,” Taylor made quotations with his fingers, “I was always chained. But he made sure early on that I knew where he wanted me. I had to…”  
He paused and licked his lips, willing himself to just think of it as ordinary and not distressing.  
“I had to kneel against the bed and be ready for him when he came home. So he could do it right away. One time I fell asleep and wasn’t there in time and he beat me for it.”  
“And what would he do if you refused to ‘be ready’?”  
“He’d beat me,” Taylor shrugged.  
“How would he beat you? With a weapon?”  
“His fists mostly. Sometimes he’d grab my hair and throw me around. Throw me into a wall or the headboard. Like if I woke him up when I had a nightmare, he’d throw my head into the headboard.”  
The lawyer nodded and Taylor took a deep breath in the pause.  
“So you weren’t refusing the penetration when he would come home from work?” the lawyer clarified.  
“I didn’t feel able,” Taylor frowned, “especially not once Eric became involved. He didn’t mind breaking bones, or skin. Fenton mostly didn’t want to hurt me, he just didn’t want me to leave.”  
“Fenton didn’t want to hurt you?” the lawyer looked up in surprise.  
“I probably said that the wrong way,” Taylor rubbed his chin awkwardly, “he didn’t like seeing me upset. If I got angry, he hit me. If I cried he’d call Eric and have me punished somehow else.”  
“And how would Eric punish you?” the lawyer took more notes.


	144. Chapter 144

Taylor felt exhausted toward the end of the interview. It felt as though his lawyer had been there for hours. The man used his iPad to take some photos of Taylor’s pages of writing before he left to study them over after hours, as opposed to just taking the notes with him. He insisted the police would want to keep the originals as evidence of his statement.  
He was surprised Natalie was still waiting around by the time the lawyer left, but she came back to the room as soon as Taylor was left alone. She’d barely sat down before Penkett appeared – this time sans Davey, and carrying a small black case.  
Taylor froze when his eyes fell on it, remembering all too well what it meant when Fenton would bring him his own similar sized metallic case.  
“What’s this?” Natalie asked, bringing him back to reality.  
“We need some samples for forensics,” Penkett responded, setting the case on the desk and clicking it open.  
“Samples?” Taylor’s brow furrowed.  
“DNA samples?” Natalie suggested.  
“DNA samples,” Penkett confirmed, slipping on some gloves, “we already have your prints on file.”  
“Are they still at the house?” Natalie asked, purely from curiosity.  
“They’ll be there a while yet combing over everything,” Penkett assured, “we just need to match Mr Hanson’s DNA to prove conclusively that he was in the basement for most of his time there.”  
Taylor watched as he readied the swab, knowing it was just a technicality. He easily let Penkett take the sample and it was over and done with in seconds.  
“I’ll be back with some case photos for you to look at,” he gave Taylor a nod before leaving the room with it.  
“Case photos?” Natalie looked curious once he was gone.  
“Yeah…” Taylor wished he hadn’t said it in front of her already, “I might be able to identify some missing girls this asshole might have taken.”  
“He had girls there?” Natalie frowned.  
“No,” Taylor shook his head, “I never saw them. I just heard them talk.”  
“At Fenton’s?”  
Taylor paused, realising she must have been confused.  
“Not at Fenton’s,” he corrected, “Eric was the one taking girls. Fenton was gay.”  
Natalie nodded, realising her mistake. But she was well aware that Taylor was suddenly talking more openly and her mind raced to think of a way to encourage it further.  
“So you were alone the whole time?” was all she could come up with.  
“Yeah, mostly,” Taylor’s eyes dropped and he frowned awkwardly, “I was the only one held in the basement. Anyone else was free to come and go.”  
“You had visitors?”  
Taylor paused, before rubbing his face.  
“Not exactly, but… a few yeah.”  
He almost sighed with relief when Penkett reappeared.  
“Would you mind?” the officer indicated the door to Natalie.  
She gave Taylor an awkward glance before standing from her seat.  
“Sure,” she relented, closing the door behind her.  
Penkett shifted her chair and stood in its place as he set the manila folder on the table. He waited for the door’s click before opening it.  
Taylor watched as multiple photos immediately fell out. None of them at a first glance looked familiar.  
“These are all the girls around college age that have gone missing in Tulsa since August,” Penkett began to spread them out.  
“This many?” Taylor frowned, unable to hide his surprise.  
“Most will be runaways, hopefully picked up in other counties. A lot of them will be victims of trafficking whether consensual or not. Anyone that you can identify will at least give us something to aim for.”  
“I was going to say… I still don’t know where they are,” Taylor shook his head, “I can only tell you who took them, not where they are now.”  
“And if we find this ‘Eric’, we’ll know what else to look for.”  
Taylor covered his mouth as the photos barely fit on the tabletop, even after moving his own things to the floor. He instantly recognised the redhead and pointed to her photo.  
“She was one of them,” he insisted, tapping it for emphasis.  
“Are you sure?”  
“I’m sure,” Taylor quickly began to scour the others, hoping it would be as easy.  
Penkett took the photo from the table and replaced it with two more. Taylor desperately tried to remember the remaining two faces, and managed to narrow the next down to three Hispanic girls.  
“I’m about ninety percent sure it’s this one,” he tapped the left photo, “they’re all kinda standing the same but I remember the earrings.”  
Penkett selected it and again replaced it with more. But Taylor was having trouble with the brunette. He set any other hair colour aside as he tried to focus, soon interrupted anyway as two officers appeared at the door.  
“Penkett,” one of them nodded to him.  
“I’ll be back,” he gave Taylor a nod before going to see what they wanted.  
He closed the door behind him so that Taylor could concentrate.   
With the quiet room Taylor was able to close his eyes and think back to when Eric had him hanging by the wrists in the basement. He had to try and ignore the memories of the pain his back and legs had been in and focus on Eric’s tormenting instead.  
He thought he remembered the book well enough, and he remembered the other three photos pretty easily, but he remembered not really _wanting_ to remember them and that was already making it harder.   
He eventually narrowed it to two and set the rest aside. He was about to focus harder on them when the door reopened and one of the officers who’d interrupted came in at Penkett’s side.  
When the door closed behind them Taylor sat back worriedly.  
“We found Eric’s dungeon,” Penkett informed him solemnly.  
“Okay…” Taylor looked between them, not losing his expression.  
“Inside we found two cells,” the other officer continued, “matching your description. In the locked one we found one of the girls you’ve just identified.”  
Taylor’s heart leapt with hope as Penkett again showed him the photo of the redhead. He couldn’t decide if putting a face to what he’d heard was a good thing or a bad thing.  
“Sadly she was deceased,” the officer said placidly, “we didn’t get to her in time.”  
“What?” Taylor’s heart practically stopped, “what do you mean? I told you she was there!”  
“It means, Mr Hanson,” Penkett was solemn, “that this has just become a murder investigation.”


	145. Chapter 145

Taylor was struggling to keep himself composed once the officers left the room. Penkett had told him the detectives would be in to interview him within the hour, and he’d asked for some time alone in between.   
He’d been the last person to… _hear_ her alive. He was sure of it. Maybe Eric hadn’t gone back to the house after he’d left. Maybe his wife had been packing up and they’d left just in time for the FBI to move in. Either way he knew that last torment that he’d overheard had quite probably been the last human contact she’d had before she died.  
And he hadn’t been able to do a thing about it.  
He wiped at his eyes and tried to take deep breaths. There’d been nothing he could do for her two days ago, but maybe there was something he could do for her now. He needed to help them find Eric. He needed to try and think of where the man could possibly be. Even guesses were better than nothing.  
He needed to try and think of the other men that had been at the party. Of the Southern-accented tattooist. Of the man who’d worn the Halloween mask. He needed to remember their voices, the way they spoke, and maybe something about their touch. Had he felt scars? Could he guess their height, weight or age?  
He needed to come up with something else on Eric’s wife.  
By the time the door opened again Taylor knew his face must have been red. Once the detectives saw it their own faces softened a little.  
It was a much more in-depth interview than he’d had with any of the officers or with Davey. They wanted to know every inch of Eric’s room that Taylor could remember – despite having seen it themselves – and everything that had led Taylor to believe that there’d been someone in trouble there. Taylor didn’t hesitate to tell them everything he’d heard Eric doing to her along with everything he’d said, before finding it hard to add on his story about the body in the trunk that Eric had already disposed of.  
Perhaps whoever had been in the trunk had been on that list too. Maybe it had been Jasmine.  
By the time the detectives left all he wanted to do was sleep. But Natalie was ready with his dinner and he didn’t want to turn her away.  
“Have you been here the whole time?” his brow furrowed, worried that she would have been bored.  
“When they let me know you might be a while with the detectives I went and got this,” she mused, indicating the food, “I hope they didn’t drill you too hard.”  
“Anything I can do to help, I need to,” he shrugged, “I’m sure the worst is yet to come.”  
“How did it go with the lawyer? He seemed concerned about something,” Natalie also looked worried.  
“I don’t think so,” Taylor considered, “I think he’s only just realising what he’s gotten himself into. The whole scale of it, I mean.”  
“We knew it was never going to be easy,” Natalie shrugged as she set out the food.  
“I guess not,” Taylor’s eyes absently followed her movements.  
“As long as there’s no bad news from Fenton’s lawyer?” she couldn’t help but hint a little.  
“There’s no news at all,” Taylor shook his head, “Fenton isn’t talking. Apparently he’s said he’ll talk to the lawyer but that’s confidential of course. He won’t say anything to the authorities. He won’t talk to the detectives. Just… nothing.”  
“So they only have your word so far,” Natalie realised, “that’s probably not a bad thing, Tay.”  
“It’s too early to tell,” he winced a little, “I just wish we knew what his plans were. He’s not the kind of person to not have a game plan in mind if something like this were to happen.”  
“You think he planned to get caught?” Natalie tried to understand.  
“No, not get caught,” Taylor corrected, “but he’d have to have a plan for _if_ he did. He was very obsessive over the smallest of things. Over finances, over cleanliness, over his routine, over our routine… not a hair could be out of place. He has some kind of contingency plan in mind, I know it.”  
“The lawyer mustn’t be aware,” Natalie shook her head.  
“Or he’s keeping it quiet,” Taylor pointed out.  
“Are they any closer to finding the other man?”  
Taylor shook his head as he reached for a drink.  
“If they are they haven’t let on,” he shrugged, “but he has to be out there somewhere. It’s just a matter of time.”  
Somehow saying it aloud – whether he believed it or not – made him feel a lot better about it. Maybe he did need to talk it out with Natalie more.   
They ate in silence for a short time, listening to the footsteps travelling up and down the hall through the slightly ajar door.  
“I overheard them talking about possibly moving you over to the rehab centre,” Natalie revealed after a while, “once you’re done with your statement.”  
Taylor looked down at where the pad remained on the desk. He was sure he’d managed to get over halfway through by now. At the rate he was going it would still be another few days.  
“Rehab?” he didn’t want to leave her hanging but couldn’t think of what to say.  
“Yeah, at the hospital,” she scratched at her cheek, “they can concentrate on physical therapy there, and you’ll have open visiting rights and such. They’re just worried about getting you over there without the press finding out.”  
“The gag order went through,” Taylor hating using the word, however appropriate, “they can’t report on it.”  
“They can’t report on anything to do with the case that might influence a trial,” Natalie corrected, “there’s no reason they can’t report on your movements.”  
Taylor took a deep breath as he thought that over.   
“I guess not,” he realised.  
He frowned as he picked up on something else she’d said.  
“Visiting rights?” he looked up, “are you thinking of bringing the kids over?”  
“I don’t really want them here, around the investigation,” she reasoned, “there’s a lot of things outside this room that I wouldn’t want them to see. But they need to see their father and I think they’ve waited long enough.”  
“What have you told them?”  
“Just that you’re going through a hard time and you need space to deal with it,” Natalie shrugged, “it was hard at first but they seem to have caught on. Ezra’s suspicious but I think he’s kept it from the others well.”  
“I’m sorry,” Taylor winced.  
“Don’t be,” Natalie insisted, “it’s not your fault. Not at all.”  
Taylor played with his food a little, not wanting to argue but not wanting to agree. He was nervous about the idea of seeing his kids again despite being desperate to hold them in his arms. He remained worried about their reactions to his appearance and about what they might ask.  
He didn’t want to lie to them, but how could he possibly tell the truth?


	146. Chapter 146

“Have you slept or not?”  
Taylor looked over to where Zac only had one eye open. He’d been sitting up for possibly the last half hour or so, not wanting to wake his brother.  
“I have,” he assured, watching as Zac struggled with his blankets for a moment.  
He finally made it into a sit and sighed at the effort of getting himself upright.  
“So what’s the plan for today?” he asked once he had his voice back.  
“Hopefully finish the statement,” Taylor said thoughtfully, “and hope to hell they either find Eric or get something out of Fenton today.”  
Zac nodded, debating whether or not to actually get out of the bunk.   
“You probably don’t want to hear this…” Taylor began almost nervously and already avoiding eye contact, “but I have a bad feeling about today.”  
“How so?” Zac’s brow rose.  
“I don’t know,” Taylor shrugged, “I just feel like… something’s going to happen. Good or bad I don’t know.”  
“Hopefully today’s the day they find Eric then,” Zac said, throwing the covers aside as his bladder won the debate, “I don’t doubt he’ll cause some trouble once they have him.”  
Taylor nodded at that, his eyes following Zac’s feet as he headed for the door.  
“Be right back.”  
Taylor rubbed his face once he was gone, thinking it over. Zac could be right, and he often was, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that it might be something more. Maybe Fenton would start causing some trouble.  
Maybe Eric would.  
“Hey, Zac?” Taylor frowned once his brother returned to the room to grab his things, “can you do me a favour?”  
“Shoot,” Zac began to pack his backpack.  
“Can you stay at home tonight?”  
Zac paused, before turning to gauge the look on his face.  
“You think you’ll be okay?” his eyebrows rose.  
“Not your home, mine,” Taylor corrected, “I’m worried something might happen if they don’t find Eric.”  
“To Nat and the kids?” Zac frowned, not having been briefed on Eric’s threats.  
Taylor nodded, not sure what to say. But if anyone could handle the truth he knew it would be Zac.  
“Is this guy dangerous? I mean, moreso than…” Zac waved a hand, unsure how to put it.  
“I watched him kill someone with my own eyes,” Taylor’s gaze didn’t waver, “and he has threatened Nat in the past.”  
“Shit,” Zac scratched his head, starting to pace before stopping himself.  
“So… if you could spare a night?”  
“Yeah, it’s no problem,” Zac insisted, “leave it with me. I’ll give her a call on the way home.”  
“Thanks,” Taylor was already breathing easier.  
Zac zipped up the bag and slid it over his shoulders.   
“Want me to see if Ike will come here instead?” he offered when he turned around.  
Taylor thought about it. The threat had never been extended to the rest of the family, but it didn’t stop him worrying about how far Eric would go.   
When he took a while to reply Zac opened the door.  
“I’ll talk to him at work,” he assured.  
“Zac…”   
He stopped in the doorway, and Taylor already felt bad for keeping him there. Despite it being Zac’s offer he knew he should have been home with his own kids.  
“You see more of the investigation than I do,” Taylor looked past him to make sure no one was in the hall, “are they any closer to finding him than they were three days ago?”  
Zac checked over his shoulder, before pausing as if deciding how much to say.  
“In my personal opinion? No,” he said straight out, “but they’ve been going over both houses with a fine tooth comb forensically. There’s a ton of DNA in both though so they’re having trouble narrowing stuff down.”  
“Makes sense,” Taylor’s eyes lowered, “do they have a name?”  
“Not yet but I think they’re close,” Zac considered, “they’ve been looking into the real estate and what names were on the houses and that. Fenton’s all checks out, this other guy’s doesn’t. It’s almost like he doesn’t exist.”  
“He was close friends with Fenton,” Taylor insisted, “and the people he brought into it… they’re not people you find on the street. They all knew each other. How could he just disappear without any of them noticing? And _why_ would he disappear, unless he knew something might go wrong?”  
“I can’t answer that,” Zac shrugged, “I’m just going with ‘the guy is really organised’.”  
He chewed on his lip for a moment as Taylor ran his fingers through his hair awkwardly. There were too many unanswered questions.  
“Tay, it might do to prepare yourself in case they can’t find him,” Zac hinted, hating himself even as he said it, “if this guy really is that good, he could disappear forever. Maybe he’s even done it before.”  
Taylor nodded, despite not wanting to acknowledge the possibility.  
“I know it’s not what you want to hear-“  
“No, I need to hear it,” Taylor nodded assuredly, “I need to be realistic. Even if I’ll never sleep again.”  
“So did you sleep or not?”  
“I did,” Taylor smirked, “I promise. And I’ll sleep better tonight with you watching over Nat.”  
“Guess I’ll see you tomorrow then,” Zac gave him a salute and stepped out.   
Taylor waited until he couldn’t hear his footsteps anymore before finally getting out of bed himself. Once he’d cleaned up he sat back on the bed with his iPod to focus on his statement for a while before anyone came to fetch him and take him back to the interrogation room.  
He wasn’t there long before Davey and Penkett made their first appearance.  
“Good morning Taylor,” Davey gave him a nod, but she didn’t take a seat.  
He looked between them, watching as Penkett closed the door behind himself.  
“Something wrong?” he could feel his gut churning again already.  
Davey and Penkett shared a look and Taylor knew right away.  
“What’s happened?” he demanded, leaning forward to show that he was ready.  
“The night before last a jogger discovered the body of a young female down by the water on Riverside Drive,” Penkett began.  
“Was she one of Eric’s?” Taylor’s eyes darted.  
“She’s yet to be identified,” Davey said softly before waiting for Penkett to go on.  
“She is yet to be identified, but we’re hoping that will happen today,” Penkett assured, “the reason we’re telling you is because DNA evidence has pinned you as the father of her unborn child.”


	147. Chapter 147

“But why would they kill her unless they were trying to cover their tracks? Did they want to make sure there was no more trace of me to find? Were they worried that someday the kid would be identified and we’d go after it? Why wouldn’t they have her abort it? Surely that shit happens all the time!”  
Taylor was pacing back and forth at the back of the room biting at his nails.   
“They killed her because of me. This is because of me. Because they used me to… because I got her pregnant.”  
“You don’t know that,” Davey was leaning against the desk, trying to offer him reassurance.  
“Fenton was paid twenty grand for that baby,” Taylor shook his head, not slowing down, “there was no reason to throw that away. And what if they want their money back? He already spent it on the house. They might come after him. They might come after me to get to him.”  
“No one is going to come after you,” Davey added as Penkett spoke with someone outside.  
“You don’t know that!”  
“Calm down Mr Hanson,” Penkett’s voice came through the door in warning.  
“They killed her because of me!” Taylor’s voice rose, “because I escaped them! How am I supposed to feel about that?! If I hadn’t tried to get away from him, she’d still be alive! I chose myself over her! How could I do that?”  
As the weight of his words hit him like a punch in the gut he fell into a crouch in the back corner of the room and covered his face. He heard Davey whisper something and the door close, but didn’t know if Penkett had stayed inside or not.  
When he finally looked up again with a wet face, he saw Davey looking down at him sympathetically. She was the only one in the room.  
“How am I supposed to live with that?” he asked her.  
“You take it one day at a time,” she insisted, “let people help you, and you will get through this.”  
Taylor shook his head, not seeing a way out. This had to be a message. Eric was going to find him eventually – and he was going to kill him.  
But he was certainly going to make him pay for that twenty thousand dollars first.  
The sound of the door opening again startled him so much that he fell back against the wall. He couldn’t stop himself thinking that Fenton was here to punish him for freaking out.  
When Penkett stepped through he had to work to catch his breath.   
“His wife’s here,” was directed at Davey, and Taylor instantly shook his head.  
Davey waved Penkett off and he left the door slightly ajar as he disappeared.  
Closing his eyes as he tried to pull himself together, Taylor leant back against the wall in order to centre himself.  
“Do you need anything?” Davey offered softly.  
Taylor just shook his head. He needed them to find Eric. That was what he needed. He needed to not worry about him turning up at any moment and dragging him back into a dark hole he’d never again surface from.  
“Would you like some time alone?”  
Taylor shook his head again.   
It took some time before he opened his eyes again, but when he did she was still leaning against the table. He was grateful that she didn’t leave, and despite finding her demeanour aggravating at times he was starting to understand exactly why she’d been appointed his case worker.  
“Can you tell me what happened to her?” he asked, wiping at his eyes before resting his arms on his knees.  
Davey took a glance over her shoulder to check no one was at the door.  
“It’s early stages,” she warned, “but she appears to have been strangled with some kind of wire or smooth cord.”  
Taylor gulped at that. It didn’t sound like something Eric would do.  
“At this stage we don’t know if maybe they were trying to suffocate the baby and just went too far,” she went on, “but she had long passed by the time she was found, and there was no chance to save the child. I’m sorry.”  
Taylor nodded, willing himself to take a deep breath but somehow not able to yet.  
“They should be able to identify her within a few hours. The DNA and prints aren’t on file but the body hadn’t decomposed too much for photo ID.”  
“Thanks,” Taylor’s voice croaked a little, just wanting her to stop talking for now.  
He rubbed his face again as he thought about Natalie waiting outside. How was he supposed to tell her about this? She had a right to know, and it was obvious he wasn’t going to be able to hide this from her.  
He also needed to tell her about Eric’s threat. That much he knew for sure.  
He wondered if Zac had called her yet. Or Isaac for that matter.  
“Would you like some water?” Davey offered, breaking his train of thought.  
Taylor nodded and she finally stood from the table to make her way around to the door. She spoke with someone outside for a moment – he could hear that it wasn’t just about water – before coming back. She took up her usual seat and set to doing some paperwork while at the same time offering Taylor some quiet.  
He took advantage of it to further calm himself down. But his mind was now on Fenton. Was he still at the other station? Did he know what was going on? Did he know more than Taylor at this point?   
Had he asked about him yet?  
He couldn’t help but hope, despite the charges he’d be facing, that Fenton might actually get some help out of this. He’d known for a long time that something was wrong – his personality changes had been a huge clue for one – and he knew Fenton had never sought help as much as Taylor had begged him to. Maybe once all this was over he’d be offered some kind of counsel or medication to get him back on track and possibly realise exactly how wrong it was, what he’d done. They might one day actually be able to heal from this.  
If Eric didn’t get to him first.  
The thought made him wonder if Eric might even go after Fenton. He knew they were friends, but what was more important to Eric? Did he think Fenton would talk?  
Taylor shook his head. If Fenton hadn’t talked yet, maybe that wasn’t something to worry about.  
He looked up as an officer appeared with a bottle of water, handing it to Davey before taking his leave. Davey unscrewed the cap before moving over to hand it down to Taylor.  
“Thank you,” he took it and had a drink.  
“You’re welcome,” Davey smiled, “how is your statement going?”  
Taylor recognised it as an obvious change of subject and decided he needed to take the bait.  
“Almost done,” he assured, rubbing at his eyes again, “hopefully I’ll finish it today, depending on the amount of distractions I get…”  
“I’ll let the detectives know,” Davey assured, “they may want to move you to the hospital first thing tomorrow morning if you feel up to it.”


	148. Chapter 148

Taylor set the pen down when the door opened, his heart jumping a little when Natalie stepped through.  
“Hey,” she offered a smile, closing it behind herself.  
“Hey,” he responded, eyeing what she had in her hands, “I’m sorry about before.”  
“It’s okay,” she assured, coming to dump the bags on her side of the table, “it was good timing, I ended up getting some work done at home for the first time this week.”  
She came around the table to plant a kiss on his cheek, and he took hold of one of her arms instead. She stumbled for half a second before wrapping her arms around his shoulders in a one-way hug.  
“Are you okay?” she asked, already knowing the answer.  
Taylor shook his head, not letting go of the arm crossed over his chest. He closed his eyes for a moment just to savour her touch.  
“We need to talk,” he forced himself to say.  
“It can wait,” Natalie assured, not wanting to pressure him.  
“I don’t think it can.”  
Natalie took a deep breath before kissing him again and letting him go. She walked back around the table and took a seat before shifting the bags to the floor. When she sat up again Taylor was reaching over the table for her hands.  
“I didn’t know how to tell you this sooner, but I have to do it now,” he insisted once she took them.  
“Okay,” Natalie was sure she wasn’t hiding her nerves very well.  
She’d only seen this look on his face once or twice in their lives, and it had only been very serious occasions.  
“You know I was with Fenton for sexual reasons,” Taylor was forcing himself to look her dead in the eye, though it was hard.  
She nodded.  
“He did rape me. More times than I’ve been able to count. But it didn’t end there.”  
Natalie bit her lip. She’d suspected, but no one had confirmed it for her. Hearing him say it finally made it all too real.  
“On the 4th of July they hosted a party at Fenton’s place,” he went on, “they invited maybe five or six people over, and I had to do things for them. Whatever they wanted. But that wasn’t enough for some, and I was drugged that night.”  
Natalie nodded again just to assure him she was still listening.  
“I found out a few months later that Fenton had organised for me to get a slave girl pregnant.”  
Natalie flinched back but he didn’t let go of her hands. Her eyes lowered and she grit her teeth, but she relented and let him hold her.  
“Yesterday they found that girl’s body down by the river,” he revealed.  
“What?” she looked up in shock.  
“They killed her,” Taylor’s voice croaked, “and they killed her because of me.”  
“But why? Why would they-?”  
“Because I escaped. Because the child’s DNA could have been tied to me and they might have been caught. I don’t know for sure,” he shrugged, “but she’s dead, and so is the child. Now I have to live with that the rest of my life.”  
Natalie frowned when his eyes lowered, though he didn’t let go of her hands.  
“Tay it’s not your fault,” she insisted, worried now that he was taking on unnecessary guilt.  
“It is my fault,” he replied in the same tone, “if I had have stayed with Fenton she’d still be alive.”  
“But you wouldn’t be,” Natalie stared him down.  
Taylor winced, wondering how that was any kind of defence.  
“He was killing you, Taylor,” Natalie insisted, “you might not see it, but we can. We don’t know how much longer you would have survived down there.”  
“I wasn’t staying there, he was moving me to another house,” Taylor shook his head, “one where I would have seen daylight.”  
“And would he have fed you better?”  
Taylor paused at that. In reality he didn’t know for sure either way. He’d just assumed anything would have been better than the basement, he didn’t consider that anything other than the location wouldn’t change.  
When he didn’t say anything for a while Natalie let go of his hands and stood to make her way around the table again. She took hold of his right hand in hers and hugged him with her left arm, feeling him stiffen underneath her.  
“This is not on you,” she said sternly, hoping it would get through, “this is on _him_. None of this would have happened if he hadn’t taken you in the first place. That was his choice and his alone.”  
“But it didn’t have to-“  
“No,” she cut him off, “nothing you say will convince me otherwise. He is responsible for all of this, and he is going to pay for it. For those girls, and for what he did to you.”  
Taylor felt his eyes welling up and he squeezed softly at her hand.   
“I don’t know what kind of bullshit he’s put into your head Jordan Taylor, but it’s going to end and it’s going to end soon. A year ago you would never have taken the fall for anything and there’s no reason that should be different now.”  
Taylor squeezed his eyes shut as she hugged him tighter before letting him go a final time. She went around to where she’d put the bags and started pulling out the dinner she’d brought in.  
“For now we’re going to focus on this case,” she insisted, “on your statement, and on this move into rehab. We will take each day as it comes and we’re not going to worry about anyone or anything not directly related to this.”  
“There’s something else I need to tell you,” Taylor blinked away tears before rubbing at his eyes again, “about the other guy.”  
“I spoke to Zac this morning,” Natalie insisted, setting a container in front of him, “if it’s about that, there’s no need to worry. He’s staying the night and we even have some squad cars stopping by. Ike will be here in a few hours.”  
Taylor sighed, wondering for the millionth time how he ever managed to find – and keep - someone like her.  
“Here, we even found you a present,” she pulled a small case from one of the bags before taking a seat.  
“What is it?” Taylor frowned, taking the change of subject and reaching for it.  
When he opened it he found some sort of large goggle-type sunglasses inside. He pulled them out to study, an eyebrow raised in question.  
“They’re for tomorrow,” Natalie explained, “someone had them shipped in from Europe. When your eyes haven’t been exposed to the sun for so long they need some time to heal, so these will help with the brightness… outside and in. They noticed you having trouble with the lights.”  
“This is actually awesome, thank you,” Taylor was tempted to put them on then and there.


	149. Chapter 149

“How long does Zac usually stay?” Isaac asked, buttoning the cuffs on his sleeves.  
“He usually just gets up and goes,” Taylor shrugged, straightening the bedcovers, “I take it not hearing from him is good news.”  
“I would go with that,” Isaac smiled before reaching for his jacket.  
“I have the lawyer coming for a meeting this morning, I think we’ll be transferring after that.”  
“To the hospital?” Isaac looked up, “want me to come with?”  
“It’s okay,” Taylor shrugged, “Nat wants to be there. Someone leaked to the press that it was happening next week so we don’t want anything to look out of the ordinary.”  
“Incognito,” Isaac nodded, “do you get a costume?”  
“I doubt it,” Taylor smirked, “but I tell you one thing… I’d like a haircut.”  
“They could probably do it at the hospital,” Isaac suggested, picking up his satchel and ducking under the strap.  
“Hopefully,” Taylor agreed.  
He wanted it short enough to not have to worry about it ever being pulled that way again.  
They both looked up to the door as one of the officers appeared after a short knock.  
“Mr Hanson, your lawyer’s here,” he informed Taylor.  
“Thanks,” Taylor nodded, rubbing his hands as the officer walked away.  
“Guess that’s my cue,” Isaac took out his phone as he headed for the door.  
“Or…” Taylor reasoned, “you could just stay for this?”  
He wasn’t sure how to come out and say it, but he did wish Isaac had been around more. He could count on one hand the amount of times he’d been to see him since he’d come to the station.  
“Do you want me to?” Isaac asked straight out.  
Taylor folded his arms and avoided eye contact. Finally catching on, Isaac paused.  
“Okay,” he made up his mind and pulled the satchel from his shoulder again, “I’ll text Zac and let him know I’ll be in later.”  
Taylor wanted to say thank you but smirked to himself instead.  
“Where do we go?” Isaac asked.  
“Back to the interrogation room,” Taylor nodded to the door before leading the way.  
His lawyer was already there with his paperwork set out. Taylor managed to procure another chair for Isaac before the both of them took a seat across from him.  
“Good morning,” the lawyer greeted, “how are things going here?”  
“I’m sure it could be worse,” Taylor replied, rubbing at his lap awkwardly, “they want to transfer me this morning.”  
“So I heard,” the lawyer nodded as Isaac set his satchel on the floor, “does that mean…?”  
“I finished off the statement this morning,” Taylor handed it over, “as I said before, I can’t guarantee I’ve included everything, but it should be a good basis.”  
“Great,” the lawyer took it and had a quick look over.  
Taylor stared at the pad as the pages moved, wondering what kind of reaction he was going to get after they knew what was in them. Isaac was just looking between them with an expression somewhere between worried, interested and bored.  
“Leave it with me,” the lawyer finally closed it again and slid it into his briefcase, “I’ll take my notes and pass it on to the investigating officers by the afternoon.”  
“Have you spoken to Fenton’s lawyer again?” Taylor asked, garnering a curious look from his brother.  
“I spoke to him last night and we have a meeting scheduled for this afternoon,” he nodded, “hopefully I will lodge your statement before then and I can lay out some of the charges his client will be facing.”  
That hadn’t been why Taylor had asked, but he found himself hoping to hear more from Fenton’s side after this upcoming meeting.  
“He still hasn’t said anything?” Isaac asked.  
“No, not to my knowledge,” the lawyer shook his head, “my hope is that once we have something official for them to either fight or commit to we’ll be hearing a lot more from their side of the camp.”  
“Do you think they’ll try to bargain?” Isaac asked, mostly out of curiosity.  
“Undoubtedly,” the lawyer agreed, “so we need to start thinking about what we want from this.”  
“What we want?” Taylor hadn’t even considered having to negotiate a fitting punishment.  
“Yes. If we can agree on a prison sentence and put a price on damages, we won’t have to go to trial at all. Save a whole lot of time and money, and as a bonus we get to aggravate the press.”  
“Do you have something in mind?” Isaac asked his brother.  
“I don’t even…” Taylor trailed off, looking like a deer in headlights, “what could I possibly ask for? I have no idea what that’s worth.”  
“We can look at some guidelines from other cases if you’d like, you don’t have to decide right now,” the lawyer insisted.  
“Is there really that much to go by?” Isaac frowned.  
“You’d be surprised,” he nodded.  
“What would we be talking in terms of money?” Taylor hated to ask, but it was a start, “like what would we even ask for besides legal costs?”  
“Losses,” the lawyer said firmly, “you’ve spent a year away from your family. You would have undoubtedly earned a substantial amount for them in that time. We estimate losses, calculate your expenses, and then we need to talk seriously about putting a number on what kind of future expenses you’re going to have because of this including the rehab, therapy, physical therapy…”  
“How do you put a number on that?” Isaac asked.  
“Exactly,” Taylor shrugged, “how can you guess what things are going to cost in the future?”  
“We can put a clause in the contract to cover any and all expenses, and he will continue to pay as long as they’re needed,” the lawyer explained before there came a sudden knock on the door.  
Taylor looked up in surprise, not used to being interrupted while with his lawyer. When the lawyer turned, another man in a suit entered the room.  
“Good morning,” he greeted casually.  
“Our meeting isn’t until this afternoon,” Taylor’s lawyer frowned, “why are you here?”  
“You must be Taylor,” the newcomer headed straight for him and shook his hand, “my name is Richard Kessler, I represent Doctor James Fenton.”  
Taylor flinched back from his touch, and immediately regretted it.  
“Who’s this?” Kessler indicated Isaac.  
“His brother,” Taylor’s lawyer explained, prompting Kessler to close the door behind himself.  
“What is this about?” Taylor asked, knowing it must have been something important.  
He hadn’t expected to meet Fenton’s lawyer so soon. Had Fenton started to talk? Were they in damage control?  
Kessler set his briefcase on the edge of the table and looked between them solemnly.  
“I regret to inform you all,” he began, “that this case will not be going to trial.”


	150. Chapter 150

“Pineoblastoma?” Isaac repeated slowly.  
“It’s an aggressive form of brain cancer,” Kessler explained, “our Doctor is currently in stage three.”  
“How was he diagnosed?” Taylor’s lawyer demanded.  
“Self-diagnosis some months ago,” Kessler admitted, “confirmed with a professional since his incarceration. We got the results back last night.”  
“This doesn’t change anything,” Taylor’s lawyer insisted.  
“This changes everything Bradford,” Kessler corrected, “there’s no point in going to trial. As I understand it you have well over a hundred charges you want to lay on my client. By the time any of those got through the court, you would no longer have anyone to prosecute. It’s assured Doctor Fenton will spend the rest of his life behind bars, but will he survive long enough to be prosecuted? I don’t believe so. In the event of the Doctor surviving long enough to get a long term prison sentence he would most likely walk free under the act of compassionate release. You will walk away with nothing.”  
He lay his briefcase flat on the table and took a step back.  
“Therefore, gentlemen, we need to cut a deal.”  
“You want to do this now?”  
“Taylor’s being transferred this morning,” Isaac warned, “we may not have time.”  
“We will need to confer and get back to you,” Bradford insisted, before Isaac finally gave Taylor a glance and realised he was not okay.  
“Tay?” he put a hand on his arm, making his brother jump.  
“What?” he asked, eyes still wide.  
“Are you okay?” Isaac frowned, not letting go.  
Taylor was grinding his teeth, and it took a moment for him to realise the lawyers were both regarding him curiously.  
“Did you hear anything he said?” Isaac’s expression didn’t change.  
Taylor stared at him for a moment in silence before looking up to Kessler.  
“He’s dying?” he had to confirm.  
Kessler nodded solemnly.   
Taylor had a familiar icy fear in his chest. One he hadn’t felt since back in Fenton’s basement. Most likely when his own mortality was in question.   
“How long does he have?” he thought to ask, “how… how long has he been sick?”  
“A year at most,” Kessler replied straight, “we’re unsure how long he’s been ill. He assures me he only acted on it a few months ago when he took to self-administering chemotherapy. It was too late by then of course.”  
“Did you know?” Isaac asked.  
Taylor’s eyes met his and Isaac could see that they were wet.  
“I had no idea,” Taylor shook his head, “I had no idea. How couldn’t I? How could he hide that from me?”  
He was looking to Kessler. The lawyer shrugged nonchalantly.  
“He seems like a reserved man,” he offered, “perhaps there are many things he didn’t share with you.”  
“But he didn’t even seem sick! I mean…”  
Taylor trailed off as he thought back. To when Fenton had started spending less time downstairs. Taylor had always assumed it had been because of the upcoming move and that he’d been packing the house, but now that he thought it out it had been an awfully long time to only be doing that…  
“You might have had other things to worry about at the time,” Bradford suggested, trying to keep him focused, “would this have been around the time he admitted to his plans for you both?”  
“Allegedly,” Kessler cut in.  
“We’re not in the courtroom, everyone in this room knows he’s guilty,” Bradford scorned.  
“Maybe, I don’t know,” Taylor shrugged awkwardly, “he spent so much time focused on the house and on his finances that I only saw him when he wanted something from me.”  
“So he didn’t spend much time with you toward the end?” Bradford sounded confused.  
“No he did, he just…”  
Taylor grunted and leant forward to put his head in his hands.  
“I don’t know how I didn’t see it.”  
“We have some other matters to tend to before I can leave, I’m afraid,” Kessler cleared his throat, “matters of finance mostly.”  
“We will be seeking damages if that’s what you’re wondering,” Bradford insisted as Isaac rubbed his brother’s back reassuringly.  
“That will be unnecessary,” Kessler assured, “as the Doctor has already named Mr Hanson as the sole beneficiary of his estate.”  
“What?” Taylor looked up.  
“Wait a minute,” Isaac needed to clarify, “so Fenton’s just giving everything to Taylor because he’s dying anyway? Does he think that’s going to be enough?”  
“What are the particulars?” Bradford demanded, iPad at the ready.  
“Everything the Doctor owns outright,” Kessler clicked open his briefcase, “his accounts, his possessions, his real estate…”  
“Taylor gets his house?” Isaac frowned.  
“I don’t want it,” Taylor shook his head, his eyes welling up again.  
“Tay just wait-“  
“I don’t want it!” he insisted.  
Bradford held up a hand to stop him, and Taylor bit his tongue.  
“All you need to do…” Kessler placed a folder on the table, followed by a pen, “is sign a little paperwork, and everything Doctor Fenton owns is yours.”  
Taylor started shaking his head.  
“We need some time to think about this,” Bradford insisted, taking in Taylor’s distress.  
“Take all the time you need,” Kessler closed his briefcase again, “but his final will and testament already names you as sole beneficiary, as I’ve already stated. So if you don’t want it, you need to decide what to do with it.”  
Kessler looked between them before giving Bradford a nod.  
“Good day gentlemen,” he bid adieu and showed himself out.  
Bradford immediately reached for the paperwork Kessler had left.  
“I don’t want his estate,” Taylor was still shaking his head, “I don’t want him to _die_.”  
“You might not have a choice Tay,” Isaac was scratching at his beard awkwardly.  
“I will go over this before I put anything to you,” Bradford insisted, “and I will still go over your statement, it just may take longer. For now you just need to focus on the transfer and getting your evaluations at the hospital done. I’ll take care of this.”  
“We’ll work this out,” Isaac gave Taylor’s shoulder a rub, “we have time. He’s not going anywhere.”


	151. Chapter 151

“Are you okay?” Natalie asked as soon as she saw her husband.  
“No I’m not okay!” he said straight out, arms hugging himself defensively.  
“It’s been a weird day,” Isaac offered with a shrug, the two of them having been standing in the hall to wait for her.  
“Are they ready for the transfer?” Natalie looked to Isaac.  
“Almost,” he nodded, “they asked me to decoy by going out the front and answering some questions. The press hanging around will come after me instead of watching the gates.”  
“Good, good,” Natalie nodded before putting her hands on Taylor’s arms and trying to look him in the eye, “just hold it together for the next couple of hours, okay? We’ll regroup when we get there.”  
Taylor nodded, not really seeing any other choice.   
“Ready to go Isaac?” they looked up to see Penkett making his way down, “the transfer’s here.”  
Isaac looked to his brother who only stared back.  
“Sure,” he answered without checking, adjusting the satchel over his shoulder and making his way down the hall.  
“Come on,” Natalie took Taylor by the hand in order to pull him behind them.  
Taylor hadn’t seen the front of the station since he’d come in. He felt a little sheepish that he hadn’t bothered to emerge from the back few rooms. There’d been nothing to stop him, he just hadn’t thought to do it. The rooms he’d spent time in had been enough space for him already.  
Before they split up they came to a set of offices separated by some glass partitions. Taylor could see directly through to where multiple investigations were going on, and he instantly spotted the board containing photos of the missing girls he’d identified. Along with them, surveillance photos of both Fenton and Eric and dozens of notes that were far too small to read.  
He hadn’t realised he’d stopped in his tracks until he felt Natalie tug on his arm.  
“Come on,” she prodded, and he realised Isaac and Penkett were also waiting.  
Taylor couldn’t help but stare as they passed by the office, and he stopped again once his eyes fell on a photo of a girl he didn’t recognise. His stomach instantly began to churn.  
“Who’s that?” he asked, a finger on the glass panel to point though he knew they probably couldn’t tell the angle.  
“Who?” Natalie proved him right.  
“Try not to look Tay,” Isaac scratched at his head as he once again held them up.  
“Which one?” Penkett came back to ask, knowing that Taylor was already on edge.  
“Her,” Taylor shook his head, “dark hair, olive skinned…”  
Penkett gave Natalie a pointed look, and she took a step back to wait by Isaac’s side. The officer leant in to Taylor slightly and lowered his voice.  
“That’s Gabriella Collins,” he informed him, “she’s the one we found by the river.”  
Taylor felt a chill creep up his spine as he stared.   
She’d been Lacey. She’d been the one bearing his child.  
All he could remember of her were sounds, but they didn’t match the smiling class photo that was pinned to the board. He grit his teeth as he struggled to make the connection before Penkett took a step back and Natalie returned to fetch him.  
“Come on Tay,” she insisted, “we need to go.”  
He let her lead him back through the offices and through toward the reception area. The room had been cleared so there were only a few people there, including a heavy set man about his age in a Hawaiian shirt who boredly stood by as an elderly woman was being interviewed.  
“Ready?” Penkett asked Isaac.  
“I think so,” he nodded almost nervously.  
“Remember the guidelines. Don’t tell them what’s going on with Fenton. You’re welcome to mention your brother’s progress but nothing that specifically implicates the case such as his injuries or-“  
“I get it,” Isaac insisted, “I know how to work the media.”  
Taylor made eye contact with him at that and Isaac offered a knowing smile.  
“Good luck,” Natalie nodded, keeping a hold of Taylor’s arm.   
Taylor watched after him as he headed for the front door, not only worried about whether it would work or not but also worried about how much Isaac would be badgered once they realised he was suddenly willing to talk.   
He decided to distract himself by trying to listen in on the woman’s interview. He could tell the officers were having trouble understanding her, and the man with her wanted nothing to do with it. He frowned as he listened, Natalie catching on and giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.  
“Taylor?”   
He looked up in surprise, having been concentrating a little too hard. He saw that Penkett still had his eye on Isaac and they weren’t ready to leave yet.  
“Excuse me for a second,” he dropped Natalie’s hand and made his way around the glass wall.  
“Where are you going?” Natalie watched after him, worried that he’d miss their cue.  
Taylor walked directly to where the interview was taking place, and the female officer conducting it looked up at him warily.  
“Can I help you?” her eyebrows rose, evidently annoyed at being disturbed.  
“I’m sorry,” Taylor insisted, garnering the attention of the older woman in the process, “I couldn’t help but overhear.”  
“This is him!” the woman exclaimed, her eyes lighting up, “but without the clothes!”  
“Excuse me,” Taylor said to the officer before focusing his attention on the elder woman, “I’m sorry to interrupt, but… you were the one that made the call?”  
“Oh yes,” she nodded, crossing her arms over her lap, “you don’t see that kind of thing often in our street, not that I wouldn’t mind seeing it a little more…”  
“Mom,” the man scorned.  
Taylor couldn’t help but smile a little, catching on that she probably hadn’t realised the scope of what she’d been caught up in yet.  
He got down on one knee in front of her, easily able to look her in the eye, and gingerly took one of her hands in his.  
“I need to thank you,” he looked her sincerely in the eye, “if you hadn’t made that call, I might not be here today.”  
“Oh hush,” he could tell she was blushing as she tried to blow him off.  
“This is Mr Hanson,” the officer introduced him, “the man you helped rescue from Doctor Fenton.”  
“And I am eternally grateful,” Taylor insisted, “I don’t know how I could ever repay you, but if there’s anything I could possibly do for you, please let me know.”  
The woman’s son was suddenly paying attention, and Taylor noticed.  
“Tay? We have to go,” Natalie appeared behind him, sounding worried.  
“Mr Hanson you’d better get to your transfer,” the officer insisted.  
He gave the surprised woman’s hand a quick pat, before offering her a smile and getting to his feet.


	152. Chapter 152

Taylor stood as still as a statue and stared.  
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been able to do this. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d simply taken the time to do it.   
The window was the entire length of the wall, and the brightness meant he had to wear the imported glasses. But he didn’t care. He was finally able to take in the colours, the shapes, the _life_ of the outdoors… even if he still wasn’t yet a part of it.  
Being December it was obviously cold out, but it hadn’t snowed yet. He caught glimpses of blue sky between the clouds every now and then and he savoured every moment of it. He had no idea how long he’d been standing there before he heard footsteps approaching from behind.  
“Taylor?”  
He turned to see his wife and he couldn’t help but smile. She returned the look as she walked right into his arms.  
“Are you doing okay now?” she asked, not bothering to step back.  
“Yeah,” he assured with a nod, “a lot better than I thought I would be.”  
“How did your assessments go?”  
“Not too bad, they don’t think,” Taylor broke the hug, “there’s a couple of physical worries but the other therapies are going to take a while to sort out.”  
“What do you mean?” Natalie frowned.  
“There’s just not a lot out there catering to this sort of thing,” he shrugged, his eyes down, “someone mentioned flying in a counsellor from the East somewhere, and they’re trying to find some sort of group to fit me into but it’s not working so far.”  
“Group?” Natalie’s eyes narrowed.  
“You know, group therapy, I think,” Taylor looked a little confused, “there isn’t any in Tulsa for people like me, really. At least not yet.”  
“What do you mean, people like you?” she shook her head, “rape victims? Surely that’s a-“  
“Male rape victims,” Taylor rubbed his face as he clarified, not really wanting to say it out loud, “it’s because I’m male, basically. But it’ll work out, I’m sure of it.”  
Natalie just nodded, feeling a little awkward that she hadn’t picked up on it earlier.   
“I’m sure it will too,” she insisted, “you look happier already.”  
“Why wouldn’t I?” he mused, taking a step back and spreading his arms a little.  
He turned back to the window and took a deep breath.  
“This feels like freedom, and I’ve been craving it for so long that this feels like a dream.”  
Natalie moved up behind him and gently wrapped her arms around his waist. His hands lowered to cover hers.  
“I’m glad you finally have it,” she leant into his back, “and I’m glad we have you.”  
Taylor smiled at that, his eyes on the clouds.  
“Do you think we should take it?”  
He hated to bring the mood down, but he couldn’t get the decision off his mind. It was almost sunset and while Bradford had insisted he didn’t need an answer right away it had been playing on his mind all day.  
“I can’t make that decision for you,” Natalie sighed, “I can only tell you what I think.”  
“Please tell me what you think,” Taylor insisted, “I don’t want to jump into something you already know I’ll regret.”  
Natalie broke free from his hold and led him over to a nearby table and chairs. She took a seat in one of two close chairs and prompted him to sit in the other.  
“We don’t need the equity,” she began.  
“That’s true,” he quickly agreed.  
“…But more importantly, I need you to have peace of mind.”  
He gave her a curious look, and she had to bite her lip as it was almost comical through the goggles.  
“I wonder, if you lose this house of his…” she began cautiously, “what exactly would happen to it?”  
“What do you mean?” he shook his head.  
“The house was all over the news, it was front page material three days running,” Natalie pointed out, “everyone knows that this was the house that held Taylor Hanson prisoner for a year. If they haven’t yet, they’re going to find this other house too.”  
She leant over and took hold of his hand.  
“You have to decide if you feel the need to control that,” she looked him dead in the eye, “or if you’re happy for some random stranger to turn it into a tourist attraction.”  
Taylor rubbed his face with his other hand. It was something he hadn’t thought of. He just hated the idea of ever setting foot on the property again, and if it turned out he became the owner he knew that he’d someday have to return to it.  
“We can burn that house to the ground if you want to,” she went on, “but we need to deal with it one way or another.”  
“Yeah I get it,” he frowned, “I just don’t know what to do.”  
“Are you happy to take everything else?” Natalie asked, “is it just the house you’re worried about?”  
“I’m not sure,” he shook his head, “I know he doesn’t have much money, it’s all tied in with the houses. I don’t know what else he has. The lawyer still has to go over everything and get back to me.”  
“Okay,” she nodded, letting go of his hand, “then I guess we’ll deal with it once we know what’s really on offer.”  
She paused to watch him trace the red mark along his left wrist.   
“How did your physical evaluation go?” she asked, knowing he’d just come back from it.  
“They’re worried about my hips and my knees,” he didn’t stop, “and there might be some nerve damage to my wrists. But these will go away.”  
She knew he was talking about the marks.  
“Eventually. I’m starting some rehab classes tomorrow to work with the joints.”  
“What about your shoulders?” Natalie asked, knowing they were also tender.  
“They’re not as worried but we’ll be working with those too,” Taylor folded his arms.  
He didn’t want to admit to Natalie how worried he was about his hands. He hadn’t had feeling in his pinkie fingers for a long time now, he’d just never been brave enough to tell Fenton. He was certain there was nerve damage they just weren’t sure how severe at this point.  
“At least you get fed here, right?” Natalie mused, changing the subject.  
“Yeah but it’s hospital food and it’s terrible,” Taylor couldn’t help but smirk, “I tell you, if you can smuggle me in a cheeseburger…”  
“I’ll look into it,” Natalie smiled before getting to her feet and holding out a hand, “come on, it’s getting dark. You should get back to your room.”  
Taylor looked toward the window and carefully pulled the goggles from his head so they wouldn’t tangle in his hair.  
“Maybe in a little while,” he reasoned, “I haven’t seen the stars yet.”


	153. Chapter 153

Taylor could feel his hands shaking with nerves. He paced back and forth beside the curtained window, waiting for the inevitable knock on his door.  
Today was the day. The day he’d been waiting for since this whole thing began so long ago.  
He wasn’t sure if the air conditioning had been turned up or if he was just so nervous he was shivering for another reason.  
When the knock finally came he almost jumped out of his skin. It wasn’t any more than a warning knock and the door opened a second later.  
The first face he saw belonged to Ezra.  
“Dad!” he took off at a run once he saw him.  
“Hey!” Taylor’s face lit up as his eldest ran into his arms.  
He quickly checked to make sure he was the only one coming in – catching a wary eye from one of the doctors through the door’s window – before hugging Ezra for all he was worth.  
“I missed you buddy.”  
He felt Ezra squeeze him harder before feeling the need to pull him back so that he could actually see his face.  
“I heard you’ve been looking after your Mom really well,” Taylor couldn’t stop his voice croaking a little, though his eyes shone, “you’re the new man of the house!”  
“Nah,” Ezra shook his head, “we all helped. We missed you Dad.”  
“I missed you more,” Taylor grabbed him into another hug before his son could see the relieved tears in his eyes.  
He looked up in time to see the door slightly open again, this time two heads about the same height ducking in.  
“Dad!” River’s exclamation mirrored his brother’s.  
“Hey guys,” Taylor held onto Ezra with his left arm, inviting both River and Penny in for a group hug, “oh man, I missed you so much!”  
“We missed you,” Penny set a kiss on his cheek, and Taylor quickly let go of Ezra so he could wipe at his eyes.  
“I missed you more,” he insisted, holding the back of her neck so he could plant a kiss on her forehead, “God I missed you so much. I love you guys.”  
“Where have you been?” Ezra asked.  
“What are those?” River asked just as soon, pointing to his wrists.  
“Sweat bands,” Taylor jumped on, not meaning to ignore Ezra but needing the distraction, “your Dad’s been working out so he can finally beat you guys at basketball.”  
“You never will!”  
“Never say never,” Taylor winked.  
“What’s that?” Penny asked, spying the bandage Taylor had on the back of his neck.  
“Your hair looks weird that short,” River chimed in with a grin.  
“It’s just a scratch,” Taylor assured his daughter, “it’ll be right in no time.”  
“Maybe Dad came back a robot and that’s where they charge him up,” Ezra teased.  
“That would be _awesome_!” River was now inspecting the bandage.  
“And what’s that?” Penny pointed to the hospital wristband he wore on his arm.  
“That’s in case I get lost so they know that I belong here and they’ll never lose me again,” he mused.  
Taylor was distracted as Natalie poked her head around the door to see how he was going. He gave her a quick nod to assure that he was okay before she sent Viggo in to join his siblings.  
“Hey Viggo!” he greeted, pulling his youngest boy into his arms, “I missed you buddy!”  
Viggo said nothing, just clutched onto Taylor’s chest. For the first time Taylor was suddenly jolted with how much weight he’d lost, realising that the six-year-old’s arms almost completely encompassed him. As if reading his mind, Penny tilted her head.  
“Why are you so skinny?” she asked.  
“I was on a really bad diet,” he offered, “but like I said, I’ve been working out, and I’m gonna get big and strong again as soon as I can.”  
“Can we help?” Ezra asked.  
“You’d better,” Taylor gave him a grin in return before shifting himself so he could sit on the floor, “hey listen guys, I’ve got something important I want to say.”  
Penny wrapped her arms around his neck and wouldn’t let go as he pulled River and Ezra’s arms so they’d move in front of him where he could see.  
“I know you guys have had a hard time,” he began softly, “but things aren’t going back to normal just yet.”  
“You need to stay in hospital,” Ezra said for him, making Penny squeeze tighter.  
“For a while, yes,” Taylor nodded, “just until I get a bit better. But once they say I’m healthy enough I’ll be right back with you guys and we’ll be back to taking on the world, I promise.”  
“We started without you,” River informed him, “with Mom.”  
“I saw that on the news,” Taylor assured, “I am _very_ proud of you guys. I swear I’ll be there to help you out next time you do it.”  
They turned when the door opened again and Taylor’s breath caught in his throat. Natalie stood in the doorway with the attending doctor, Willa standing beside her and holding her hand.  
“Kids,” Natalie caught their attention, nodding toward the doctor.  
Ezra and River groaned, and Penny refused to let go of Taylor’s neck.  
“It’s okay,” Taylor gave her a pat on the arm, “you can come right back. I just need a moment with the doctor.”  
Penny planted another kiss on his cheek before she let him go. Natalie directed them out, Viggo not turning his back until he was actually out of the door. Natalie instructed them to wait by the door – in view of the doctor – before stepping forward with Willa.  
Taylor was about to get up before pausing on one knee. Natalie had stopped and let Willa’s hand go.   
The toddler made her way across the floor on her own, and it was all Taylor could do from bursting into tears then and there.  
“Oh Willa,” he almost grunted when she finally made it into his arms.  
Natalie stood back to watch, desperately trying to keep herself composed.   
He couldn’t believe how much she’d grown. He could still hold her in his arms, but he could tell it wouldn’t be for much longer. He was very conscious of her wariness at how strange he must have looked, but was eternally grateful that she recognised him at all.   
“Oh baby girl I missed you,” he lay a kiss on her temple, the same place he last kissed her so long ago, “I’m so sorry, I am so sorry.”  
Natalie lost it and had to wipe at her eyes. Taylor couldn’t concentrate on anything but his daughter’s heartbeat against his own as he held her to his chest.  
“I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice breaking this time and he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep talking.  
He cringed and dug his face into the nape of Willa’s neck. He never wanted to let her go again.


	154. Chapter 154

“I keep having these recurring nightmares. There’s one where I’m playing in the backyard with Willa and I suddenly recognise this toy that she’s playing with. I pick it up and I’m staring at it, because I know the last time I saw it was when Eric had it. Then I sense someone standing behind me and I turn to look up and Eric’s there. When I look back to grab Willa and run she’s already gone. Then I realise I’m already chained down.”  
Taylor shrugged, finding himself weirdly able to relay the visions as if he were simply telling a story.  
“There’s another one where I’m standing on this patch of grass with a spade and I’m digging a large hole. Nothing significant about the hole whatsoever. I realise I’m surrounded by this tall wire fence, and when I turn back to look at this huge weatherboard house I see Fenton making his way toward me. He says something like ‘it’s time’ or ‘you’ve done well’ or something, and then when I turn to look back at the hole I can see that it’s the shape of two separate graves.”  
He could feel his heart beating faster as he stared at a painting on the wall.  
“And I know he’s come to kill me and I start saying no, it’s too early, we’re not ready… but begging never works.”  
He leant forward in his seat and took a deep breath. It was harder to talk about Fenton, now knowing what fate awaited him.   
“Do you actually die in your dreams? Is that what wakes you up?” the psychologist asked, a concerned look on her face.  
Taylor shook his head.  
“No it never goes that far,” he replied, “sometimes Eric will pull a gun on me but I wake up before he pulls the trigger.”  
“Are the nightmares always either Fenton or Eric?”  
“They’re the only faces I see,” Taylor shrugged, “but it’s better than them being shadows I guess.”  
“Are they dreams you’ve had in the past?”  
“While I was there…” he frowned, “I had a lot of nightmares, especially after he started blindfolding me.”  
He scratched at his nose awkwardly.  
“Where I couldn’t see who or what was there I just knew I was in danger. And if I happened to wake up from one of those on a weekend I’d be proved right because I’d usually get hit straight away.”  
“Is there anything else you need to add about your dreams?” the psychologist took some notes, encouraging him to continue if he felt the need.  
“Just that they won’t stop,” Taylor shook his head and put a hand to his forehead, “I wasn’t sleeping much at first so they ah… they gave me some pills to take so I could sleep through the night. It just seemed to make them more vivid.”  
He frowned again, hating the conundrum.  
“But I can’t refuse the medication, so… at least it helps me sleep. Even if I can’t actually relax.”  
He scratched absently at the medical bracelet on his wrist, the indent underneath it still a cause for concern. The physical therapist had been working with his hands over the past day or so and had assured him he should regain the feeling in his little fingers, even if it took as long as it did for the cells to replace each other. Taylor wasn’t too keen on waiting years for the repairs but if he had to he had to. There wasn’t really a way around it.  
“Would you like access to some meditative techniques?” the therapist suggested, “perhaps if you can calm your mind enough during the daylight hours it will help to calm you at night?”  
“I’ll try anything,” Taylor assured, “so yeah, definitely. If you have them.”  
“I’ll have some tapes and brochures sent to your room first thing tomorrow morning,” she promised, “is there anything else you’d like to cover today?”  
Taylor shook his head and fiddled with his wedding ring, knowing they’d barely scratched the surface but that they had plenty more sessions to come.  
“The nightmares are enough,” he said softly, “enough to make me feel like I’m stuck in a Final Destination movie.”  
The therapist collected her folders and stood from her chair. Taylor didn’t bother to look up.  
“Then I shall see you tomorrow afternoon,” she offered a smile he didn’t see, “but before I go, we may have found a group session for you if you’re interested.”  
Taylor looked up in surprise. He wasn’t sure if he was interested or not, but it had been talked about.  
“It is a session for women, but all patients have been briefed and have agreed to let you in. If you’d like I could make further enquiries over the next few days and we’ll see about getting you in early next week.”  
“Sure,” Taylor rested his chin on his fists, noncommittally.  
“Have a good night, Taylor.”  
He watched after her as she left his room, knowing it wouldn’t be long before someone else came in. Just as he suspected there was a quick knock shortly after and the door opened a smidge before Natalie poked her head in.  
“Hey,” he sat up where he was on the bed, before realising that she wasn’t alone.  
Viggo stepped through in front of her and quickly made his way to Taylor’s side.  
“And… hey!” Taylor pulled his son into his arms before giving Natalie a quizzical look.  
“We need to talk,” Natalie looked sheepish, checking behind her to make sure they were alone.  
“Okay…” Taylor was officially unnerved.  
He pulled Viggo up onto the bed with him, despite his son not letting go of his waist.  
“I had a talk with the doctors. We’ve been talking over the last few days,” she admitted, “ever since you did so well when you saw them again. Viggo’s been having trouble sleeping, just like you have, and well… the medication is getting a bit much.”  
“The therapist just offered me some kind of meditation thing,” Taylor shrugged, “I get it tomorrow. Maybe that’ll work for the both of us?”  
“That’s not why we’re here,” Natalie mused, “I asked them if Viggo could spend the night. With you. They said yes.”  
“Nat…” Taylor immediately started shaking his head, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”  
“Really?” she feigned surprise, “because the doctors seem to think it’s a great idea.”  
“But what if I-?”  
Taylor cut off as he set a hand in Viggo’s hair, not wanting to say aloud that he didn’t want to hurt his son if he suddenly awoke with a nightmare.  
“You’ll be fine,” Natalie insisted, “and the doctors will keep a close eye on you both.”  
“Can I stay with you, Dad?”  
Taylor looked down in surprise as Natalie’s hands quickly covered her mouth. Both knew they’d been the first words Viggo had spoken in months.  
Gently stroking his hair once he’d pulled himself together, Taylor couldn’t help but smile a little.  
“Sure, buddy,” he confirmed for him softly, “of course you can stay with me tonight.”  
“Thank you,” Natalie whispered, barely able to compose herself.  
And for the first time in nearly a year, Taylor’s night was free from nightmares.


	155. Chapter 155

“Oh my God, are you kidding me?” Taylor’s eyes widened.  
Isaac’s eyes shot to the door to make sure no one was watching. Zac was emptying his backpack onto the table.  
“You guys are gonna get me in so much trouble.”  
“Just hurry up and eat,” Zac scorned, strategically leaving the bag on the table between the food and the window.  
Taylor also glanced toward it before quickly unwrapping the Arby’s burger and digging in.  
“There’s more where that came from,” Zac insisted with a sly grin.  
Taylor closed his eyes as he savoured the taste before grunting his appreciation.  
“We couldn’t sneak in the soda but we figured it was a start,” Isaac mused, still keeping an eye on the door but not wanting to miss his brother’s reaction.  
“I don’t even care,” Taylor insisted, reaching for the fries, “I am in heaven right now.”  
“Any requests for our next law breaking manoeuvre?” Zac smirked.  
Taylor just shook his head, his mouth too full to reply.  
“This is a cool room,” Isaac looked around appreciatively, “is it like a common room?”  
“Sort of,” Taylor was able to reply once he’d swallowed, “they clear it out after dinner so that’s when they’ve let me have it to myself.”  
“You don’t look like you’ve already eaten,” Zac didn’t take his eyes off him.  
“I have, but this is too good to pass up.”  
“Have you thought any more about Fenton’s offer?” Isaac asked, unsure if he should do it while Taylor was eating but desperately wanting to know.  
Taylor nodded, but winced with it.  
“Nat and I have been talking,” he admitted, “I think we’re gonna take the house. The lawyer isn’t sure about the rest though. He thinks it won’t be enough and I kind of agree with him.”  
“But what else does he have to give?”  
Taylor shrugged.  
“He hasn’t seen the second house yet, maybe it’s worth more than the first,” he reasoned, “and because only the cops know where it is so far we should be able to sell it. That should cover costs, I’d hope.”  
“Depends where it is,” Zac thought out loud.  
“Depends on a lot of things,” Taylor sucked on his fingertips for the salt, “we don’t know what he’s done to the house yet. The only thing I heard mention of was a fence. The whole thing could look like his basement for all we know.”  
Isaac and Zac shared an awkward glance before Zac shifted his chair, the creak breaking the moment of silence that had followed.  
“Heard you had a sleepover with Viggo,” he changed the subject.  
“How did that go?” Isaac asked when he nodded.  
“A lot better than I thought it would,” Taylor assured, “I was worried I might hurt him or scare him in the night, but nothing happened. It was weird. A good weird. And he slept through the night too as far as I know, while Nat said he hadn’t been…”  
“He’s had a hard time,” Isaac nodded, “a little more so than the rest of them I think.”  
“Yeah I’m getting that,” Taylor scratched at his head, “I just figured they’d all be having a hard time and we’d all have to work together on it is all. I didn’t really factor in one being worse than the rest.”  
“They’re all doing a lot better now that you’re home,” Zac assured.  
“Home,” Taylor rolled his eyes and looked toward the window, “I’m not quite home yet.”  
“Speaking of which,” Isaac leant forward, “you know Christmas is next Thursday, right?”  
“Yeah I’ve been marking the days,” Taylor nodded, “it’s been mentioned but we haven’t settled on what to do yet.”  
“Is Nat gonna bring the kids here for the day?” Zac asked.  
“We were actually hoping I could go home,” Taylor admitted, “it just needs a little prep I think.”  
“That would be awesome,” Zac insisted, “if we can make it happen. I know Avie and Mac will be back in town and everyone’s dying to see you again.”  
“Yeah I figured,” Taylor wasn’t too sure a family gathering was the best thing to walk back into, considering his newfound trouble with crowds since his isolation.  
“Speaking of the family,” Isaac raised his brow at Zac.  
“Oh right…” Zac dug into the backpack again, Taylor watching on curiously.  
He pulled out a folder and set it on the table beside Taylor’s food.  
“What is it?” Taylor asked, setting the burger down and reaching for it.  
“Just some drawings from the kids,” Zac replied as Isaac smiled, “they figured you could brighten your room up a little. No one was sure if you could draw or paint or anything here.”  
“Not yet,” Taylor shook his head as he flipped the folder open, “they’ve given me the option I just haven’t really-“  
He cut off when he saw a drawing from Willa and had to immediately work to compose himself.   
“You okay man?” Isaac looked worried.  
Taylor nodded and closed the folder, intending to look it over closer once they were gone.  
“Yeah,” he took a breath and smiled, “I’m great.”  
“You better hurry up with that burger before they come and get you. Sun’s going down,” Zac indicated the door.  
“If I do get to go home for Christmas, I might need you guys to help me with something,” Taylor picked it up again, wondering how he was even going to fit it all in.  
“What is it?” Isaac asked.  
“It’s kind of a surprise,” Taylor gave him a wink, “I’d organise it myself but I don’t have internet access here yet because they’re easing me back into it, or whatever. I also don’t have access to my bank accounts again yet.”  
“So it’s a present for someone?” Zac mused.  
“For everyone,” Taylor looked him in the eye as he took another bite, “well, for my crew anyway.”  
“No problem,” Zac insisted.  
“Consider it done,” Isaac chimed in before getting to his feet.  
“Hey… just out of curiosity,” Zac began warily, hoping not to destroy his brother’s appetite, “but have you heard anything more from Fenton aside from the finance stuff? Like has he tried to apologise or anything?”  
Taylor shook his head as he chewed and worked to swallow.   
“I’m not sure someone like him can even feel remorse,” he reasoned, no callous in his voice at all, “I think he got what he wanted and he’s going to die happy from it.”  
“That’s kind’ve a grim way of looking at it,” Isaac scratched his cheek awkwardly, eyeing Zac off.  
“I’m not gonna beat myself up about it,” Taylor looked up, “I tried to help him and he wouldn’t take it. Now I just know why. He managed to fulfil his lifelong obsession, not many of us can say that.”  
“That is messed up,” Zac muttered under his breath.


	156. Chapter 156

It was the Tuesday after his brothers’ visit (and two days before Christmas) when Taylor found himself being transferred offsite after sunset to his nominated group therapy’s location. Natalie came with him on the transfer simply to sate his fear that it might be a con, but didn’t come into the session with him and instead opted to wait outside with the doctors.  
Taylor had easily been one of the first to arrive and was well introduced to the person running it by the time most people turned up. The group organised their chairs into a circle of eight, and while it was an open session Taylor had been assured that he didn’t have to contribute if he didn’t want to. So even though the women were very welcoming he sat hugging his waist in awkward silence for a good portion of the session.  
The admissions took him by surprise. He hadn’t been sure of what he’d been expecting, but somehow he found himself admitting that he’d been hoping what had happened between he and Fenton had been a one-off. That this kind of thing didn’t happen in _Tulsa_ of all places. His hometown – where his heart had always been. Yet these women, mostly his age and younger, were recounting events that rivalled his own.   
He found himself wondering if any of them had actually escaped Eric or his friends.  
He listened carefully as one of them admitted she’d still been having problems with darkness. How she couldn’t go out at night without feeling as though she were being stalked, as that was how she’d been attacked. Taylor couldn’t relate to the particular fear knowing that Fenton was locked up and he himself was under guard all day and night, but it did remind him quite suddenly that Eric was still out there somewhere. As long as Eric continued to wander the streets, there was a good chance that this girl _could_ be taken and especially at night. Her fears were founded.  
But he kept quiet. At least half the perpetrators that caused these women to be here either hadn’t been caught or had gotten off lightly. It made him feel not only relief but guilt that he knew Fenton’s fate. It was one less demon to be looking over his shoulder for.  
He’d only just been willing himself to open up and say something when the co-ordinator called the session to a close. He made a promise to himself to make the effort next time – and now it seemed so easy that he was internally kicking himself for not giving it a go – as he helped the few who stayed behind to pack up their chairs and give the room a quick clean. One of the ones who’d stayed behind was the woman who’d admitted her fear of the dark that night so despite knowing his transfer was waiting for him outside, once the therapist wished them all a ‘Merry Christmas and goodnight’ Taylor escorted the younger woman outside to her car. The doctors saw what he was doing and opted to keep an eye on him while at the same time keeping their distance.  
“You didn’t have to do this,” she insisted as she fumbled for her car keys in her handbag.  
“Nonsense, I wanted to,” he insisted, “um… I’m Taylor.”  
“I know,” she replied just as nervously, “I’m Claire.”  
“I’m sorry for what you went through, Claire,” he offered his condolences, unsure what else to say.  
“Me too,” she managed to find the keys and stooped to unlock the door.  
She paused in her movements before turning back to him.  
“You know I heard rumours of what happened to you,” she seemed to bite a bullet she’d been holding in all night, “aren’t you afraid too?”  
“What do you mean?” he asked honestly.  
“Of the dark,” she shrugged, “aren’t you afraid someone’s just going to turn up one day and decide you’ve had enough freedom and that it’s time to go back?”  
Taylor rubbed at his chin and glanced back at his van as he thought it over.  
“No, not really,” he admitted, “but I wasn’t abducted at night, I was taken in broad daylight.”  
“Really?” Claire looked surprised.  
“Yeah,” he shrugged, “and I was only taken by surprise because… who would think they’d have to protect themselves from the man who’s immunising their daughter?”  
He bit his lip awkwardly, trying not to throw too much at her already. It was only night one and she didn’t know any of the context yet.  
“But I like to think I could hold my own otherwise, and I have in the past,” he quickly added, “it was a case of letting my guard down at the wrong time, and that’s something I’m going to have to eventually learn to do again. Someday.”  
Claire nodded, thinking it over.   
“You must have a lot of horror stories,” she said, making him hold in a chuckle, “the longest any of us had been held locked up was three days. But a whole year?”  
“I’d gladly take the year over many things I heard tonight. At least I wasn’t being sold multiple times a night to different people,” he assured before indicating her car, “are you okay now?”  
“Yes, thanks,” she offered a smile before finally opening her door, “I guess I’ll see you again next Tuesday?”  
“You will,” Taylor promised, holding the door for her as she stepped in.  
She paused with her leg out for a moment before looking up again.  
“Have you spoken to him yet?” she asked curiously, “have you said your piece?”  
“No,” he shook his head, “and I don’t know if I will.”  
“You should think about it,” she insisted, “not to push you into it or anything, but it’s helped a lot of people to be able to look them in the eye and realise you’re no longer afraid.”  
Taylor’s eyes wandered for a moment as he thought, before settling on her again.  
“But what if you are?” he asked.  
“Then you lie to yourself,” she mused, finally pulling her leg in, “and you keep lying to yourself until it becomes the truth. Then suddenly one day, you wake up, and it is.”  
She pulled the door closed as he stepped back.   
He didn’t think he’d be rid of his fear of Fenton as long as the man still breathed. But maybe someday, long after he was gone.  
He waved after the car as Claire drove away before taking a deep breath and heading back toward the van. The doctors had waited patiently, and Natalie was still there and ready to ask him how it had gone. He was glad when he heard she’d actually had a nap while he’d been inside, despite his worries about leaving her outside alone.  
On the ride back to the clinic Taylor tried hard to give her an idea of what had gone on without giving away any stories – either the women’s or his own. By the time they did get back he’d managed to convince himself that it was going to be much better therapy working it out with likeminded survivors than it would be to just continue counselling on his own.   
Natalie left for the night almost as soon as they returned, promising to see him the next day after getting the last of her Christmas shopping in. Taylor didn’t hold out too much hope for seeing her in the morning but knew she’d at least call his room if she was going to be late. The thought made him check the phone when he made it there just in case any messages had been left from legal or otherwise.  
There were two messages, one from Bradford and one from Zac. Bradford’s message was to call him back. Zac’s message had a simple three words; ‘I got him’.


	157. Chapter 157

“What have you done?” Natalie was in shock as she stared.  
Taylor grinned through the surrounding chaos.  
“I got us a puppy.”  
“That’s so cool!”  
“Can I hold him?”  
“He’s too big for you. I can hold him!”  
“Everyone can have a turn!” Taylor insisted as he set the pup down among the chaos, “and you all need to thank your Uncles for making this happen.”  
“Thanks Uncle Zac!” a few kids chorused, as he was the only one present, before the small crowd dispersed with a mini stampede and the wag of a golden tail.  
Natalie watched after them as the puppy happily barked on their way outside.  
“Really?” she turned back to her husband.  
“What?” he shrugged innocently before moving the goggles onto his head as Zac closed the front door, “we’re making a fresh start, right? What’s a little more love to go around?”  
He stepped forward and kissed the indignant look on her face before continuing through toward the kitchen. She gave Zac a playful glare as he followed, making him chuckle as she hit him on the arm.  
“What do we have to eat around here? I’m starving!”  
“Hey you!” Kate’s eyes lit up as she saw her brother-in-law for the first time.  
She pulled him into a hug as Isaac immediately reached into the refrigerator to grab a beer for him.  
“How are you?” Taylor asked.  
“We’re great now that you’re home,” Kate insisted.  
“Is that Abe?”  
“Yep,” Zac went to fetch his youngest from the nearby high chair, “he’s just started walking.”  
“No kidding,” Taylor’s eyes were wider than he realised, “what about Hans? Or Odette?”  
“A bit further behind. Jess and Joe should be here soon, they wanted to see you before heading over to your parents’,” Kate explained.  
“Odette’s a bit smaller but she’s getting there,” Isaac mused, “Nikki is bringing her and the boys to Mom’s just before lunch.”  
“Cool,” Taylor nodded, oddly more nervous about having to face his parents.  
He’d spoken to both of them on the phone from the hospital but hadn’t seen them face to face yet.  
“Don’t look so worried,” Natalie appeared at his side and rubbed his arm while his other took the bottle Isaac offered, “no one’s going to judge you.”  
Taylor wanted to assure her that it wasn’t what he was worried about, but he wasn’t entirely sure.  
“Want to come out and see the puppy?” Zac asked his son.  
“Puppy?” Kate looked between them.  
“Taylor got us another dog,” Natalie couldn’t sound angry if she’d tried.  
“Right,” Kate mused before reaching for Abraham, “I’ll take him if you guys want to stay here.”  
Zac didn’t confirm or deny, but handed Abraham over all the same. Kate gave Natalie some quick kitchen instructions before disappearing toward the excited children’s screams.  
“How’s Viggo doing?” Taylor looked down at his wife once they were gone.  
“He’s doing great,” she insisted, “he’s been sleeping well ever since. I think he just needed the reassurance that you weren’t going anywhere.”  
“That’s going to make touring awkward,” Isaac cracked open his own beer and leant back against the counter.  
“Let’s not even think that far ahead yet,” Zac winced a little, “we liquidated the band, remember?”  
“It shouldn’t take too much to get it going again,” Taylor’s eyes were down as he thought.  
He didn’t know exactly what they’d done, but they’d have to fix it eventually.  
“If you boys are going to talk business – on Christmas Day,” Natalie gave them a pointed look, “you can watch the oven yourselves and I’ll go referee the naming of this dog.”  
“Love you,” Taylor smiled after her as Zac made his own way to the refrigerator to fetch a soda.  
“I mean, we can’t really do anything until they let you out anyway,” Isaac shrugged, “and we still don’t know when that will be.”  
“Do you get the spend the night home?” Zac took up a spot beside Isaac.  
Taylor shook his head.  
“Just on day release,” he admitted, “but I don’t know that I’m ready to come back yet. Everyone’s working to ease me into it, but to actually spend a night with Nat…?”  
“You’re worried,” Isaac said blandly.  
“I’m very worried,” Taylor blushed a little, “and I know that it’s founded, it’s just something we’re going to have to work on.”  
“Does Nat know?” Zac asked.  
“I think so, but we haven’t talked about it. I don’t really want to talk about it yet.”  
“Sounds like you’re going to have plenty of time to work it out,” Isaac offered, taking a swig.  
Taylor nodded thoughtfully. There was an awkward moment when neither Isaac or Zac knew what to add to that and couldn’t think of a new topic fast enough. Taylor soon broke the quiet.  
“I think I want to see him,” he admitted, keeping his eyes down.  
“Him? Fenton?” Isaac’s eyebrows rose as Zac set his drink aside.  
“Yeah,” Taylor frowned, “he’s only got a year, and I don’t really want to regret anything once he’s gone, you know?”  
“Like what? It’s not as if you’re forgiving him,” Zac shrugged.  
“No of course not,” he assured, “I just don’t want to leave anything unsaid. Even if I don’t know what I want to say just yet.”  
He rubbed his face awkwardly. He’d known it was going to be hard to explain. He was still confused about it himself, he just felt like he was running out of time to make a decision.  
“Tay… if you do decide to go ahead with it, we will support you,” Isaac said firmly.  
“Sure,” Zac quickly agreed.  
“But don’t go in thinking that you’re being forced to for one reason or another, and come out the other side regretting your decision.”  
“I think I’d regret it more if I didn’t at least try,” Taylor tried to reason, “you know… even if it’s just that I get the chance to look him in the eye and know that he can never hurt anyone again.”  
“Well you’ve never been one to back down, that’s for sure,” Isaac pointed out, drinking again.  
“Until now,” Taylor admitted uncomfortably, before looking to the door as they heard a commotion, “what… is going on?”  
The puppy had come running back in, and Ezra and Penny were both struggling to take control of the lead before taking him outside again. The brothers chuckled at them as Natalie appeared again in a huff.  
“So what’s the verdict?” Taylor asked her.  
“Roosevelt,” she replied, “Roosevelt Hanson.”  
“Who came up with that one?” he raised a brow.


	158. Chapter 158

“Just remember, you can absolutely end this any time you’re uncomfortable,” Davey insisted, heels clicking on linoleum flooring, “I will be with you the entire time so just say the word. Kessler has asked to be present, I take it that won’t be a problem?”  
“No,” Taylor shook his head, unsure if he’d truly prefer to be alone with him for this or not.  
They paused at a solid door and waited for the guard to let them through. They could see a second guard in the distance and Taylor felt a shiver run down his spine when he looked at the door he stood beside. It looked like every other door in the facility, but he knew what was behind this one.  
“How are you doing?” she asked when she noticed he’d stopped moving forward.  
“I’m scared,” he admitted truthfully, quickly rubbing at his eyes before they could start to water.  
Fenton definitely wouldn’t want to see that.  
“It’s okay to be scared,” Davey insisted, giving him a reassuring pat on the back, “this isn’t supposed to be a walk in the park. Just take your time.”  
Taylor nodded and took a deep breath. He was definitely having second thoughts. But he’d come this far, and now he needed to see this through.  
He locked eyes with the guard, who promptly unlocked the door. Davey gave Taylor another reassuring pat before he led the way into the room.  
Taylor was glad to see that a partition had been set up so they wouldn’t have any contact. There were holes in the thick Perspex that would allow sound to carry through, but they were barely the size of quarters.   
Fenton sat patiently on the other side of the panel, anything below his waist – including his hands – out of view. Kessler sat against the right wall far out of the way. Davey indicated the chair in front of the panel for Taylor to take, waiting patiently for him before taking her own seat also to the side.  
Taylor made a point of moving the chair back.  
“You wanted to see me?” Fenton broke the awkward silence.  
Taylor could feel himself shiver simply at the sound of the man’s voice. He began wishing he’d paused longer outside. He didn’t feel ready for this at all.  
“I did,” he agreed, giving the older man sporadic glances but generally keeping his eyes down.  
He looked a lot sicker than Taylor remembered. Haggard, even. He seemed pale though he didn’t appear to have lost weight.   
“Why?” Fenton demanded, and Taylor was taken aback at his tone.  
His left heel started bouncing quietly, the ankle suddenly feeling naked without a chain.  
“How long were you sick?” he frowned, keeping his eyes down to his hands, “and… why didn’t you tell me?”  
Fenton paused for a long time, and Taylor began to wonder if he was even going to answer. If he never got answers while he was in the basement, he didn’t know why he expected to get them now.  
“I didn’t want you to worry.”  
Taylor looked up in surprise. Both from getting an answer, and for what the answer was. He expected it to be along the lines of ‘you didn’t need to know’. Realising that was all he was going to say, Taylor had to work himself up for the next part.  
“Did you know time was running out that fast?” his voice broke and he mentally scolded himself, “were you planning to kill me within a year?”  
“No,” Fenton replied simply, “I was never formally appraised. I did not know how much time I had.”  
“But you would have done it,” Taylor said flatly.  
When Fenton nodded, Taylor again regretted ever coming here. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting but he knew this wasn’t helping him at all.  
“What did you do with my car?”  
He felt stupid for asking, but it had really been one of the unanswered questions that had haunted him from day one. He didn’t really expect an answer today more than any other, but he held out hope.  
“You have no reason to hide anything anymore,” he quickly added, “can’t you just tell them something? Anything? Just to put some minds at ease?”  
“Whose minds?” Fenton’s eyes narrowed slightly, his solid stare not having wavered from Taylor the entire time, “I would venture a guess that it is only your mind you wish to put at ease.”  
“And what’s wrong with that?” Taylor shrugged, “why can’t you just give me that? What’s stopping you now?”  
“The car was given to some unsavoury youths who I will not name,” Fenton almost spoke over him but did it without raising his voice, “I would quite easily assume it was in pieces within an hour or two. It will not be found.”  
Taylor nodded and lowered his eyes. He suddenly felt as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He hated the idea that the car was gone, but at least knowing what had happened would have to prove enough.   
However knowing that Eric quite possibly still had Willa’s toy with him made one of his fists clench.  
When he looked up again Fenton was still staring.  
“You need to tell them who Eric is,” he said flatly.  
“Excuse me?” Fenton’s brow rose.  
Taylor felt himself mentally recede but he held the man’s gaze.   
“Like I said,” he went on the defensive, “what’s stopping you now? Couldn’t you at least just help me this one last time?”  
“No,” Fenton replied sternly, an almost amused glint in his eye.  
Taylor recoiled a little as he recognised it. Fenton found this amusing. He remembered a similar look on his face the day of his birthday when he’d removed the hood Eric had graced him with. The flashback immediately put Taylor on edge.   
As a result, when Fenton suddenly set his handcuffed hands on the bench and leant forward, Taylor flinched back.  
“ _Eric_ has done more for me than any other person on this planet,” Fenton’s tone was low, “his secrets are safe with me, as mine are with him. I will quite happily take those secrets to my grave.”  
“Even if it means more people die,” Taylor was quickly losing his nerve, “you know they killed Lacey, right? She lost the baby. The other girl in the basement at his place? Also dead.”  
“People die every day,” Fenton responded flatly, “at least they had some fun with these ones.”  
Taylor sat back and rubbed his face, shaking his head at Davey as she instantly sat forward.  
Nothing had changed. Fenton still thought of him as a toy. They still thought of _people_ as toys. Fenton was going to his grave thinking that he had every right to take Taylor’s life, just as Taylor had earlier suspected.   
He was going to die happy.  
“If you were expecting an apology today, I’m afraid there isn’t one on offer.”  
Taylor smirked, keeping his eyes away again. He’d had a vain hope but he’d known it was futile. Especially after the first few seconds in the room.  
“But I will say that I regret that you were hurt.”  
That made Taylor look back at him.  
“Physically,” he amended, “there are many instances that I would take back, or do again if I could. I did not like hurting you, despite it being necessary at times.”  
Taylor just shook his head incredulously.  
“But I will never apologise for loving you. Or for making you such an integral part of my final years.”  
“You never loved me,” Taylor scorned, struggling to keep it together, “love is reciprocated. This was lust, pure and simple.”  
“Regardless, I have what I wanted from you,” Fenton’s head tilted to the side a little as he registered the growth in Taylor’s anxiety, “all I did ever want was to be a part of your life, and now I will be. Forever.”  
Taylor shifted in his seat, struggling to keep composed. Both tattoos suddenly felt as though they were on fire.  
“I will live on in your memory,” Fenton looked nothing less than satisfied, “and I will always be with you. Here…”  
He tapped his temple before his heart, “and here.”  
“No,” Taylor shook his head before finally standing from the chair, “no. You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to hold that over me.”  
“Sometimes the bad guys win,” Fenton shrugged nonchalantly.  
“You don’t,” Taylor seethed, “I am taking my life back. I _have_ my life back, and I have something that you will never understand. A true family. One who actually cares about me and wants to see me beat this. Beat _you_.”  
Davey sat forward as he began to get riled up, and he saw Kessler move out of the corner of his eye.  
“I am starting the new year with a new life. A fresh start. One _without_ you, and I am never going to look back.”  
He held his breath for a moment before leaning on the bench and looking Fenton in the eye.  
“I am not going to miss you. I am not even going to think about you,” he said between his teeth, “I will move on with my life and forget that your shadow ever darkened it. Happy new year 2015.”  
He hit the bench with his hands and turned to walk out. The guard quickly opened the door for him.  
“Taylor, wait.”  
Taylor paused in his stride, knowing it was only out of habit that he was doing as he was told. The thought made him grit his teeth.  
“There are some personal things I wish to say before you go,” Fenton’s voice came from behind him.  
Taylor took a deep breath and closed his eyes.  
“You know what?” his eyebrows rose, “there were so many times where I cried out for you, where I begged you for help, and you just turned your back on me.”  
He looked over his shoulder.  
“Now it’s my turn.”  
Without another word, he continued through the door before Fenton could respond. Davey followed him through and once Taylor heard the door close and the key turn in the lock he finally let himself break down.  
He would never see Fenton again.


	159. Epilogue

Taylor was quiet as he watched Isaac through the studio window with Zac and Luke by his side. He didn’t know anything about what they were working on despite his brothers trying to bring him back up to speed over the past week or so. He’d thought it would be easy enough to slide back into work, but it just had him feeling like an outcast. It didn’t take them long at all to recognise that he hadn’t just slipped into his former self once being reunited with the studio, and Zac stepped over to put a hand on his shoulder.  
“You doing okay?” he asked.  
Taylor shrugged, keeping his eye on Isaac.  
“I’m okay,” he assured, “maybe I just have a lot on my mind.”  
Zac winced a little and looked up to see Isaac watching him through the glass. Isaac gave him a short nod and Zac gave Taylor’s shoulder a pat.  
“Why don’t we take a break?” he suggested, “we can go over to Chimera, maybe grab something to eat, just have a timeout?”  
Taylor nodded quietly, glad for the distraction.   
“Hey, Ike?” Zac patched through to his headphones, “we’re gonna head out for a bit. Hold down the fort?”  
“No problem,” he nodded in response, he and Luke getting right back to work albeit a little quieter.  
Zac waited while Taylor grabbed his camera and sunglasses before leading the way from the studio. The street outside was quiet and they easily crossed the road to their nearest café. Taylor paused in the street for a moment tempted to take a picture of the way the sun was hitting the bitumen, but realised Zac was already at the door and quickly followed him in.  
They soon ordered and took a seat by the side wall. Taylor instantly began to go through the recent photos on his camera, knowing Zac wanted to talk it out and needing another distraction.  
“It’s him, isn’t it?” Zac’s voice lowered on cue, “you’re still thinking about him?”  
“He’s gone, Zac,” Taylor said bluntly, “there’s nothing to think about anymore.”  
“There’s the houses,” Zac pointed out, not wanting to turn this into an argument.  
“We can’t do anything until next week. Bradford’s flying back in on Tuesday,” Taylor said absently, “Nat’s still worried about the work that needs to be done on the one we’re selling, and she’s still upset about what she saw.”  
“Did you end up going to see it?” Zac frowned.  
“No. I heard about it. That’s enough,” Taylor felt a shiver run down his spine at the thought and dropped the camera to the table, “I knew it was going to be bad, but… if I’d known? I wouldn’t have let Nat go there.”  
“Well if you need someone else to go, I don’t mind,” Zac offered.  
“I couldn’t ask you to,” Taylor shook his head, looking out the window to the place where he used to park his car outside the studio – his brothers had still left the gap, “once Bradford gets here we’re just going to get in some construction workers to clear the place out so we can put it on the market and be done with it.”  
“Sounds best,” Zac nodded, looking up as their food was brought over.  
He dug in while Taylor started playing with his phone. He hadn’t had it long and was having trouble catching up with the new applications as well as updates to the old ones.   
“So how are you taking it?” Zac asked eventually, knowing Taylor wasn’t going to talk otherwise, “him being gone, I mean.”  
“Fine,” Taylor said with a little more spite than he meant to, “I’d be better if people would stop bringing him up. I want to forget him, not keep his memory alive.”  
“Heard anything more from the case workers?”  
“Nope,” Taylor sighed, sitting back into the chair, “nothing’s changed for months now. They already think now that he’s gone the case is just going to go cold. They’ve talked about putting measures in place to stop it happening again and whatnot, but really… there isn’t much they can do.”  
He shrugged.  
“It was a fluke that he ever got away with it. You can’t really prevent something like that from happening.”  
“Maybe they could implement more self-defence courses for people or something,” Zac suggested.  
“They wouldn’t have helped me,” Taylor frowned.  
“Maybe not, but they might help someone else,” he pointed out, “how many people in your group sessions would it have helped?”  
Taylor nodded silently, thinking it over. It crossed his mind that he could even offer some of those women some classes of their own. He knew at least two of them were active as far as safety and awareness in the community went.  
He’d already been thinking of ways to get out there and bring awareness to these issues himself.   
He was so deep in thought about it that when Zac shifted in his seat, it made him jump.  
“Bathroom,” Zac paused to explain, “won’t be long, I promise.”  
He gave his brother a pat on the shoulder before heading down the short hall and disappearing to the left. Taylor hated to admit how uncomfortable he felt at being left alone, and opted to pick up his camera again and continue looking through photos.   
He hadn’t looked at more than two before he felt a hand on his shoulder.   
His back immediately stiffened, and the hairs stood on the back of his neck. He knew the touch. He knew the touch all too well.   
“Outside is a grey sedan with Minnesota plates,” the voice to match it came softly over his shoulder, and Taylor could feel the warm breath on his ear.  
“If you aren’t in the back seat within sixty seconds, my friend out there is going to come inside. Go ahead and take a look.”  
Taylor could barely bring himself to move, but shakily tore his eyes from the table to look out the window. A heavy set man in a jacket too large for the day’s weather made eye contact with him and nonchalantly exposed a rifle as he stood aside. Taylor could almost feel his heart stop then and there.  
“He’s going to make sure he introduces himself to everyone in here. Including your brother in the bathroom back there. So leave your camera and phone on the table and let’s get a move on, shall we?”  
The hand disappeared and Taylor heard footsteps heading for the door. He was too nervous to look over his shoulder. If he saw him, that might make him real.  
It wasn’t until the door closed that he realised he’d stopped breathing.  
His eyes darted to the bathroom as he reached for his cell phone, quickly pulling it from his pocket. He darted a quick glance to the window as he ducked under his camera strap to see the man check his watch, before gritting his teeth and quickly unlocking his phone screen.  
Feeling his fingers shaking he struggled to quickly open a text window and type the words _Eric grey sedan MN plates_. He was just about to add the recipient when he heard the door open again.  
Time was up.  
He dropped the phone onto the table, already wishing he’d typed something different, and quickly made for the door as he heard the guy at the counter ask the man if he’d like a menu. Taylor controlled himself enough to not fling the door open, and once he was out in the street immediately began the search for the car.  
He soon found it to the left, parked in front of the violin shop. Not knowing how much time he had left, he didn’t look back as he rushed over to it and opened the back door. Seeing instantly that Eric was in the driver’s seat almost made him leave the door open once he got in, but he forced himself to close it just in case it didn’t count.  
“Good boy,” Eric said in an all-too familiar tone as Taylor worked to catch his breath.  
It took him a moment to realise Eric was watching him in the rear-view mirror.   
“We have much to catch up on, you and I,” Taylor could see the smile in his eyes once he’d made eye contact.  
It meant he was distracted when his door suddenly opened again, which made him jump several inches. The man in the jacket leant into the car and took hold of his head, pulling it forward so he could see the back of his neck.   
Taylor flinched as the bandage was ripped off.  
“It’s him,” the man’s gruff voice muttered.  
“Of course it’s him,” Eric scorned, “secure him and I’ll meet you at the van. We’ll go straight to the farm from there.”  
Taylor’s hand went to the back of his neck as he was let go, his eyes watching as the man pulled a set of handcuffs from a pocket. He felt himself shiver just from the sight of them, and inside his head cursed at how he’d finally gotten used to being around the police ones without feeling weird. Now he was right back where he started.  
He could feel his eyes starting to well up as the man roughly grabbed hold of his left wrist. He decided he needed a distraction.  
“Farm?” was the only word he could get out, looking toward Eric’s back so he wouldn’t have to meet his eye line.  
“You didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?” Eric scorned, “you owe us a lot of money.”  
Taylor winced as the second cuff locked tightly onto his right wrist before the man leant across to secure his seatbelt for him. While there he retrieved Taylor’s wallet before finally closing the car door. Taylor watched him walk away before settling his eyes on the café entrance. He had no concept of how quickly time was passing, but surely Zac had been a while by now.  
“With Jim out of the way, we’re going to get our moneys’ worth out of you before we finish what he started.”  
“I have money,” Taylor’s voice was already shaky, “I can get you money.”  
He knew it wasn’t really what Eric wanted, but it didn’t hurt to try.  
“Money is what people _have_ , Taylor. It isn’t what they want.”  
Eric turned the key in the car as Taylor struggled to keep himself composed. He knew what he meant. It was going to be the 4th of July all over again, only worse.   
“But not to worry. As you know, I’ll only kill you when you’re ready for it.”  
Taylor’s eyes shot to the back of his head as he set an address into the car’s GPS.  
“When I’m ready?” his brow furrowed, not understanding what he meant.  
How was he ever supposed to be ready to die?  
“You remember the girl in the box,” Eric replied absently as his concentration lay elsewhere, “every day I would ask her if she were ready to die. I believe you were present when she finally said yes.”  
Taylor felt sick already. It wasn’t something he thought he’d ever forget. It didn’t make sense at the time, and he wasn’t even sure that it did now. He didn’t want to know what Eric had put her through for her to say yes to being shot in the head while being kept prisoner in a steel trunk.  
But he didn’t know how long she’d been there either.  
“Cheer up!” Eric insisted as he backed out of the parking space and prepared to drive away, “Jim’s been gone what… about a month now? You’ve had an extra two months already. I hope you made the most of it.”

*

Zac stopped in his tracks when he looked up to see that Taylor wasn’t at the table. When he came out into the main café area he had a quick look around to check that he wasn’t at the counter, before frowning to himself as he made his way to where his brother’s phone and camera sat.  
He picked up the phone and stared at it, confused.  
“Did anyone see where my brother went?” he asked around the nearby tables.  
Most people were either studying or engrossed in conversation. All he got were blank stares. Frowning deeper now he switched Taylor’s phone on before instantly seeing the message screen before the phone locked itself.  
At seeing the name ‘Eric’ Zac dropped the phone and bolted for the door.  
Not seeing Taylor on the sidewalk, Zac jogged into the street and looked both ways. There were a few grey cars around. As his eyes frantically searched he pulled his own cell phone from his pocket and quickly put it to his ear.  
“Zac?”  
“Tay’s left his phone and he’s gone. I took my eyes off him for _five seconds_!”  
“What do you mean ‘gone’?!”  
“There was a text on the phone that said something about Eric and a grey car.”  
Then he saw it. It was coming right for him, heading back toward the city.   
“Ike call the cops!” he yelled into the phone before ducking into the street.  
The car’s brakes locked, coming to a halt in time for Zac to slam his hands on the hood. He cursed as he dropped his phone in the process.  
Taylor’s eyes widened when he realised what had happened. The next thing he saw was Eric’s hand going to his belt and pulling out the very gun he’d seen him use that day in his dungeon.  
“Wait no!” he instantly panicked as Eric undid his seatbelt, “please don’t hurt him!”  
“It’s a little late for that,” Eric clicked the safety off as he went for his door handle.  
Taylor frantically tried to reach the buckle on his own seatbelt, the way he’d been strapped in making it hard. The next time he looked up Zac had already made his way to the driver’s door.  
“ZAC HE’S GOT A GUN!” Taylor yelled in warning, instantly seeing Zac duck back.  
But Eric had already gotten the door half open, and Zac chose to use the momentum to slam the door back into him. It hit Eric in the knee and arm and caused him to fall back into his seat.  
“You are _not_ taking my brother!”  
Taylor could tell by the tone of his voice that he wasn’t going to back down. He finally managed to get the seatbelt undone and untangle his arms in time for Eric’s recovery. What he missed was Zac leaning into the car and quickly removing the keys.  
Eric’s next move, after a glare in Zac’s direction as he threw the keys away, was to aim the gun at Taylor.  
“Back away,” was his warning.  
Zac froze when he realised, his eyes going to Taylor. Taylor was trapped against the door and had already unsuccessfully tried to open it from the inside. He locked eyes with Zac but couldn’t get out what he wanted to say to him.  
 _Eric was going to kill him anyway._  
And maybe this was a better way to go. Ending it all now instead of once they were through with him. It would almost be a form of mercy.   
Taylor quickly said a mental prayer.  
“Pick them up,” Eric ordered Zac, indicating the direction the keys had gone with his eyes.  
Zac looked like he was thinking of refusing, but he didn’t say a word.   
“Get a move on,” Eric insisted, the gun lowering a little and Taylor’s eyes following it, “we’re starting to draw a crowd.”  
“Hang in there Tay,” Zac’s voice wasn’t as confident as it had been just moments ago.  
Taylor felt his breathing heavy as he worried that while Zac backed away to fetch the keys that Eric might take the opportunity to shoot him instead. He was distracted when over Zac’s back he caught sight of Isaac at the front door of the studio with his cell phone to his ear. His face was pale as he stared at what was going on, but he was still talking into the phone.  
Taylor wasn’t sure if he could see him from there or not.  
The gun rose slightly as Zac moved and Taylor’s eyes soon went back to it.   
“What are you going to do to me?” he asked, undecided as to whether he should encourage Eric to pull the trigger or not.  
“Shut up,” Eric scorned, “we’ll talk when I’m done with your brother.”  
“But you’ll let him go, right?” Taylor’s brow furrowed.  
He watched as Eric ducked his head a little in order to keep an eye on Zac. He’d moved close to Isaac but they couldn’t tell if he was saying anything to him.  
“He’s seen my face.”  
Taylor froze, his eyes on Zac. Eric wasn’t planning to let either of them go. Taylor had already reached the point where he didn’t care what happened to him, but if Zac was going to be involved…  
His mind quickly raced for a solution.  
“Everyone’s seen your face,” his voice broke with urgency as Zac began to make his way back, “the cops have surveillance photos from Fenton’s house. You’re in them. They just don’t know your name.”  
He caught a curious look on his face before he turned back to keep his eye on Zac.  
“But we don’t know your name. We don’t know anything. There’s no reason you can’t let him go.”  
“There’s also no reason at all that I would feel obligated to do you a favour,” Eric mused.  
“It’s not a favour,” Taylor’s panic was rising, “if anything it’s a favour to yourself. You’re already wanted for murder one. The less people you involve the less you go down for.”  
He flinched back in his seat when Eric turned to lock eyes on him.  
“You really think I’m going down for this?” he was holding back laughter.  
Taylor didn’t know how to respond to that. He couldn’t think straight until Eric turned away again.  
“I think I’m going to have to remind you of a few things before we get started,” he mused, “with Jim out of the way it will be so much easier.”  
“Why?” Taylor frowned, “you never cared about him before.”  
“There are certain rules of his that I adhered to that you were unaware of,” Eric assured, “for instance it took a lot of negotiation before we could have our party that night… There won’t be any need for that now of course. We can get right down to business. In fact, I have someone already waiting to meet you at the van.”  
“You said you’d kill me when you were done with me,” Taylor’s eyes darted as his brother got closer to the car, “that means you’re not selling me on.”  
Eric chuckled at that.  
“No one wants a flight risk,” he scorned, “you dug your grave the moment you put a hole in Jim’s wall.”  
Taylor gulped at that, but also because Zac had now made it back to the car. His hands were raised in a vague act of surrender, the keys coiled loosely around a finger.  
“Throw them in,” Eric ordered with a nod.  
“And if I do?” Zac sounded nervous, but Taylor could see him subtly shifting his weight.  
“Then we leave quietly, no one has to get hurt,” Eric replied, finger tightening a little on the trigger.  
“Then why is my brother shaking his head?”  
Taylor’s eyes widened. He hadn’t even realised he’d been doing it, but for Zac to call him out on it while a gun was pointed at him made him legitimately question his sanity.  
As Eric moved Taylor grimaced expecting the gun to go off, before a squeal of rubber on asphalt made them all look up to the city end of the street.  
Two squads cars rounded the bend from Brady Street, lights only going on when they found the scene. With Taylor’s focus on the squad cars he didn’t see what Zac did at first.  
Zac had seen Eric’s eyes go to the police cars and hesitate. In his hesitation, Zac had lunged for the gun. Zac managed to catch Eric in the throat with his right elbow as he reached for the weapon with his left, but before he could dislodge it the gun went off.  
Taylor barely grunted as he felt the pain shoot through his right shoulder, the bullet continuing through and shattering the side window behind him.  
Zac heard it go off but he didn’t give up. He eventually forced Eric to drop the gun to the floor of the car before Eric managed to elbow him in the jaw which sent him reeling backwards. Zac quickly recovered, and while Eric’s head was down presumably to search for the gun again, Zac opened the driver door and used both hands to grab him by the shoulders and drag him out. By now the cops were out of their own cars and shouting orders… but Zac didn’t hear them.  
“ZAC?!” Taylor yelled once he’d managed to catch his breath.  
He saw his brother’s face pale as he staggered back a little. As Taylor struggled to hold his left hand firmly over his own wound, he leant up in time to see a flash of red before Zac went down.  
“What happened?!” Taylor exclaimed as Eric leant over the back seat to grab the gun.  
Taylor cursed that he hadn’t had the initiative to take it himself before Eric could get to it, but when he heard it click as Eric got out of the car his thoughts went back to Zac.  
He could hear Isaac yelling but couldn’t hear what he was saying. 

*

“DROP THE GUN!”  
“ZAC!”  
“STAY BACK!” one of the officers warned Isaac before he could get any closer.  
Eric simply armed the gun again, staring down at Zac as he lay in the street. Zac’s fingers twined around the knife lodged in his abdomen, trying desperately - but not sure how to stop the bleeding. He was using his legs to try and push himself further away but he wasn’t getting far.  
“You see this?” Eric indicated the scene as Zac finally looked up, “this? Is all because of you. You’re not walking out of here. Your brother isn’t walking out of here – because of _you_.”  
“Oh bullshit,” Zac scorned, not in the mood for matinee monologues.  
“Oh you’ve got something to say?” Eric feigned interest as he looked him over, “sorry about that, we’re on a schedule. Still, it looks as though I won’t have to waste a bullet on you.”  
He looked up toward the road block as Zac felt his face pale. It didn’t _feel_ that bad, but he was no biologist. He followed Eric’s eye line before the man took a step back.  
“But I came here to do a job, and now I need to finish it.”  
Zac leant up in time to see him aim the gun behind the seat, directly at Taylor. Taylor couldn’t move.  
“NO!” Zac yelled, looking back at the police in time to see one of them pull the trigger.  
The shots rang loud, echoing down Main Street. Eric staggered backwards, falling first to his knees and then onto his side. Zac watched with wide eyes as Eric’s focused on him, well aware that the gun was still in his hand.  
Zac knew he couldn’t reach it from where he was, and Eric was still conscious enough to move his arm. Zac found himself staring down the barrel before a boot suddenly appeared and kicked the gun out of the way.  
When he looked up to see Isaac standing over him he let his head fall back onto the road in relief.  
“Zac?!” he knelt at his side, dropping his phone to the ground as two officers suddenly appeared over him.  
One of them was already on the radio with the paramedics. They were on their way.  
“Stand back Sir,” the other insisted, a hand going to Isaac’s shoulder as he quickly assessed Zac’s state.  
“Sir, can you feel your legs?”  
“His name’s Zac,” Isaac insisted.  
“I can feel everything,” Zac insisted with a gulp as they heard a car door open.  
Isaac’s head shot up and he jumped to his feet. Taylor had managed to somehow reach through the broken glass and open his door from the outside door handle. Isaac bolted to his side as he staggered around the back of the car.  
“Tay! Tay, what happened?”  
“Where’s Zac?” Taylor was trying not to lean against the car with his injured shoulder, and found it easier to lean into his brother.  
When he rounded the back of the car and saw the officer stooped over him, Zac had his eyes closed. Thinking the worst Taylor fell to his hands and knees, jolting Zac awake again.  
“Tay?”  
“Zac what happened?!” he exclaimed, seeing the knife for the first time.  
“Stay clear,” the officer warned, “paramedics are on their way.”  
“Are you okay?” Zac gulped slightly, seeing the blood pooled on Taylor’s shirt.  
“I’m okay,” Taylor insisted, falling onto his hip, “I didn’t see him get you. Zac I’m so sorry.”  
“I didn’t see it either,” Zac’s eyebrows rose.  
“Let me see that,” the second officer came to Taylor’s side the moment he was off the radio.  
He quickly inspected the wound, seeing that it was a through and through.  
“Okay we need the both of you to stay as still as possible. We will have you guys out of here in no time.”  
“I’ll call Nat and Kate,” Isaac fetched his phone from the ground as Taylor fell down onto his side beside Zac.  
He rolled back so he was facing the sky, almost mirroring Zac’s position. Closing his eyes he took a few deep breaths, keeping his hearing tuned to Zac’s breathing pattern just in case.  
“Well this sucks.”  
Taylor broke into a chuckle before cringing as the pain shot through his chest. The second officer had meanwhile found his own handcuff keys and was gently prying Taylor’s hands from his wound in an attempt to try them in the cuffs. When he caught sight of the blood on his hands he quickly turned his eyes to his brother.  
“Thanks Zac,” he quickly brushed over, “for… you know.”  
“For saving your ass?” Zac’s eyebrows rose, “let’s make it off the street before we get too carried away.”  
As soon as the cuffs came free Taylor’s left hand went back to his shoulder. In the movement his eyes went to the right where they locked on Eric’s. Open and staring, there was no life in them whatsoever. Taylor felt the breath leave his body as though his fear of Eric were running after the man’s departed spirit.  
He looked back to the sky, attempting to focus on the clouds instead.  
“Remind me to call the laser surgery and move that appointment forward,” he muttered, “I need to get rid of these fucking tattoos.”  
Zac smirked, trying not to let his eyes close.  
“What took so long anyway?”  
“It was the first one I could get after getting out of rehab,” Taylor pulled a face, “thinking I’ll bribe someone into getting me in earlier. Or I’ll go somewhere else.”  
“Nat’s gonna meet us at the hospital,” Taylor looked up at the sound of Isaac’s voice, but he soon disappeared again.  
Taylor absently thought of how odd it probably looked with both he and Zac lying beside each other bleeding from different body parts. But when he heard more vehicles arrive and looked to the blockade to see that it was the media, he did not plan on moving. The police wanted them to stay still as it was.  
“Just spoke with Kate. She’s on her way too.”  
“Here?” Zac looked up.  
“No, hospital. I can hear the sirens now.”  
They could all hear them, and it was more than one ambulance. Taylor hated the thought of separating from Zac in case something went wrong, but knew he wouldn’t have a choice. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if something happened because of him, but he kept himself calm by way of the officers not looking too worried.   
He took a deep breath as he heard them starting to argue with the media.  
“I miss him,” he said suddenly.  
“What?” Zac’s head rolled lazily to the side, “miss who?”  
“Fenton,” Taylor’s gaze didn’t waver from the clouds, “it’s stupid, and it’s wrong. I told him I wouldn’t. But I do.”  
“You spent a long time with him,” Isaac opted to crouch down close to his brothers’ heads, “that probably has something to do with it.”  
“I don’t know,” Taylor frowned, “I don’t want to miss him, I just do.”  
He took another deep breath and let it out slowly.  
“He wanted to tell me something the last time I saw him,” he admitted, “but I walked out on him. Not knowing what it was is going to haunt me forever.”  
“I’m sure anything he would have said to you, he’d said already,” Isaac kept his eye on the end of the street.  
“He’s going to haunt me forever - just like he said he would,” Taylor accepted before his eyes slid closed, “but Eric won’t.”  
In moments the first ambulance could be seen at the end of Main Street and Isaac quickly stood again. A couple of officers began to move people out of the way and one of them came back to the brothers’ sides.  
“We’ll get you in first,” he was talking to Zac, “we just need to wait for them to back up.”  
Zac only nodded, unsure if he could talk anymore.  
“Hey,” Taylor caught the attention of the officer before he attempted to push himself up onto an elbow.  
Isaac berated him for moving but he didn’t listen.  
“There’s a GPS in the car,” Taylor informed the officer, “wherever he was going, there’s supposed to be a van. He said someone was there waiting for me.”  
The officer looked into the car, easily seeing the navigator from where he stood.  
“I don’t know who,” Taylor shook his head, “but he wasn’t the only one here either.”  
“Thanks,” the officer took out his walkie talkie, “anything else?”  
“The guy that was here was a big guy, heavy set. Wearing a military jacket, jeans and boots. Shaved head and greying beard,” he quickly described, “he was carrying a concealed rifle.”  
“Do you know where he went?”  
Taylor thought for a second but shook his head. He hadn’t been paying attention.   
“He might be going to the van,” he suggested, “I think Eric might have said something about it.”  
The officer took the information over to his colleagues and Taylor watched as one of them immediately called it in. By the time he laid back down the gurney had been pulled from the back of the ambulance for Zac.  
“Do you think he might be hanging around?” Isaac asked worriedly, not moving from his spot.  
“I think we’d know by now if he was,” Taylor gave him a glance, “if Eric told him to go I’d assume he’d be well and truly gone.”  
“I’m just going to apply some pressure, but we’re not going to move the knife, okay?” one of the paramedics was saying to Zac, “are you focused?”  
“Yeah,” Zac opened his eyes again and nodded.  
“Are you in a lot of pain?”  
“Hell. Yes.”  
“Um, ditto,” Taylor gave them a wave, the blood on his hands already drying darkly.  
“Second ambulance is here now,” Isaac assured him.  
They both watched on as the paramedics prepared to lift Zac onto the gurney, and quickly did so with only a groan coming from him. Taylor made an effort to sit up – with Isaac’s help – as their younger brother was loaded into the ambulance. Isaac declined the offer to ride with him and they soon closed the doors before being on their way.  
Taylor on the other hand, once he stood, was able to walk to his own ambulance and sit in the back as his shoulder was inspected. They managed to keep him out of view as his shirt had to be cut off and they quickly dressed the wounds for his transport. Isaac rode with him to the hospital – Taylor more glad for his presence than he wanted to admit – where once Taylor was taken care of he quickly sought out Zac.

*

Taylor sighed and leant his head back into the pillow as Isaac returned to his room sometime later.  
“How’s he doing?” Natalie asked from her chair beside the bed.  
“He’s insisting that Tay owes him one.”  
“So he’s doing fine?”  
“He is aware that I got shot, right?” Taylor used his left hand to point at the sling he now wore.  
“Pretty sure he is,” Isaac mused, “how are things here?”  
“We won’t be spending the night,” Natalie assured, “he just needs to be discharged. We’re waiting on a prescription.”  
“Davey called, she’s on her way,” Taylor informed.  
“Davey?” Isaac frowned, “she’s coming here?”  
“Yeah,” Taylor rolled his eyes to the ceiling, “we didn’t know how long we’d take. She has some things to tell us about the van and what they found.”  
“Did they get the guy?” Isaac looked to the other chair in the room before heading over to take a seat.  
“I don’t think so,” Taylor shrugged, “but maybe that’s what she’s coming for.”  
“Did you know him?”  
Taylor shook his head but shrugged again.  
“I couldn’t say,” he admitted, “he could have been a friend of theirs, but I didn’t recognise his face.”  
“How long do they think Zac will be in?” Natalie changed the subject.  
“Overnight at least, they want to keep him under observation,” Isaac leant forward in his seat, “they don’t seem as worried since his surgery.”  
“Is he still in recovery?”  
“No they just brought him out,” Isaac shook his head, “I thought I should wait with Kate until he woke up.”  
“Good plan,” Taylor’s eyes scanned the ceiling, counting off the cracks in his head.  
Isaac gave Natalie an odd look, and she mouthed the word ‘morphine’.  
“How long are you staying?” she quickly went on.  
“Until someone gives me a ride back to my car,” Isaac mused.  
“We can do that on the way home,” Natalie gave her husband a glance, “unless Kate’s planning to leave first?”  
“I think she’s staying until the kids are ready to be picked up,” Isaac considered, “I know she wasn’t planning on staying all day. She just wanted to make sure Zac pulled through.”  
“She’s aware I got shot, right?”  
“Everyone’s aware,” Natalie gave Taylor’s hip a pat.  
“Good. Because if he gets flowers and I don’t-“  
“Good afternoon,” the three looked up to a sudden knock on the open door, seeing Davey standing in the doorway with a briefcase and a smile.  
Isaac quickly stood in order to give her a seat.   
“Not sure what‘s good about it,” Taylor muttered, his eye on her as she moved over to it.  
“Hello,” Natalie offered pointedly.  
“Well that’s what I’m here to share,” Davey assured, setting the case down before turning back to Isaac and Natalie.  
“It’s up to you if you wish to stay for this or not, but either way please close the door.”  
Isaac looked to Natalie.  
“I’ll stay,” she insisted before addressing Davey, “he’s a little high on morphine at the moment, if that matters.”  
“That doesn’t matter,” she assured as Isaac closed the door and stood by it.  
“I’m not high.”  
“Of course you’re not honey.”  
“So, where do I start?” Davey’s eyebrows rose, “it’s been an interesting few hours down at the station working with the officers and detectives on this case again-“  
“Did they find the gunman?” Isaac frowned, folding his arms.  
“No, but they believe they have an ID,” Davey replied, “and it shouldn’t be too long before they do find him. But speaking of ID, now that his body is in custody we’ve been able to identify ‘Eric’.”  
Taylor suddenly sat up to pay further attention. He didn’t even feel his shoulder’s objections.  
“Frederic Rosenberg, surprisingly a high standing member of society,” Davey had her case open and had retrieved a file.  
She took out a photo and showed it to the room.  
“Frederic. That’s not much of a stretch,” Taylor’s eyebrows rose, “guess his creativity lay elsewhere.”  
“He and his wife June have lived in Tulsa for the past twenty years or so, having moved here from Bethesda,” Davey went on.  
“June,” Taylor repeated the name, getting flashes of the cat suit which made him blink.  
“Is she in custody?” Natalie asked solemnly.  
“Not as yet, but they anticipate catching up with both her and the gunman sometime today.”  
“What happened with the van?” Taylor scratched his arm worriedly.  
“Good news there,” Davey nodded, “they found the van and were able to rescue a girl who was reported missing a few days ago. A fifteen year old by the name of Anna Hayden.”  
“Fifteen?” Isaac frowned.  
“Yes,” Davey’s expression had turned serious, “she was in the back, naked, except for an anchored chain around her neck and a hood over her head. There were more chains there but she was left alone.”  
Natalie jumped as Taylor let out a grunt, moving so he could sit on the side of the bed. Isaac darted forward when it looked like he was going to fall but he paused when Taylor righted himself.  
“Are you okay?” Natalie asked worriedly.  
“Yeah I just feel sick,” Taylor tried to focus on the opposite wall.  
“Perhaps I should leave it there,” Davey suggested, setting her paperwork in her lap.  
“There’s more?” Isaac looked worried, a hand on his hip and the other scratching his beard.  
“No keep going,” Taylor insisted without looking in her direction, “I’m not going to feel any better about this. Might as well get it over with.”  
“Well the GPS also led investigators to a property which a raid was conducted on just an hour ago,” Davey proceeded with caution.  
“The farm,” Taylor realised.  
“It… wasn’t a farm,” Davey seemed confused, “it was in an industrial area, mostly abandoned. Authorities managed to recover almost twenty children in squalor conditions.”  
“What?” Natalie’s eyes widened.  
“Children?” Isaac visibly grimaced.  
“I’m pretty sure that’s the farm,” Taylor wasn’t surprised.  
“Boys and girls. Mostly between the ages of ten and sixteen,” Davey responded to Isaac, “some of them had been there a long time, others not so long.”  
“That’s where he was taking me,” Taylor suddenly found himself feeling something he hadn’t in a long time, “that’s where he was going to use me.”  
He felt like he was watching it on a television in his mind’s eye. He could feel himself purposely pulling back – mentally removing himself from the situation, so that he wouldn’t feel any emotions connected with the discovery. It was something he’d done many a time with Fenton but had tried to switch off since being home. Now he felt himself going back into that box. Becoming the doll again.  
“They’re currently in the process of notifying the families of the victims,” Davey went on, “but some are runaways, insisting they have nowhere to go. It seems like Frederic has had his hand in this for a very long time.”  
“I think we knew that,” Natalie gave her husband a worried glance, recognising that something had changed.  
“They’ve also made a further discovery at his house, since the yard was being dug up.”  
“They started that weeks ago,” Natalie frowned as Taylor just stared at the wall.  
“And it’s been a very painstaking process I can assure you,” Davey agreed, “only two bodies have been recovered so far, long decomposed, however a few days ago they came across a tank buried underground.”  
“A tank?” Taylor’s eyes darted to her for the first time.  
“Are you sure we’re ready to hear this?” Isaac looked as uncomfortable as he felt.  
“If not now, when?” Taylor stared him down.  
“No one’s going to judge you if you want to leave,” Natalie insisted.  
Isaac shook his head, but folded his arms as he stood back against the wall again.  
“What kind of tank?” Taylor got them back on topic.  
Davey’s eyes slowly settled on him, as if to gauge whether he was going to handle the response or not.  
“An acid tank,” she said determinedly.  
Natalie’s hand flew to her mouth, suddenly feeling sick herself. Isaac’s face lost colour. Taylor visibly worked to conceal any physical reaction.  
“Was anyone in there?” his voice came out steadier than he thought it would.  
“By now it’s hard to say,” Davey shrugged apologetically, “as the house has been effectively abandoned for six months. Anything put in the vats would have long been corroded.”  
“So there’s no way of knowing how many went in there,” Natalie was taking calculated deep breaths.  
“Or who they were,” Taylor added.  
“I’m sorry,” Davey shook her head.  
Taylor gulped slightly as he let it sink in. He was never going to know the identity of who’d been shot that morning in the dungeon. He’d tried not to get his hopes up to begin with, but he hadn’t been able to help it.  
He hoped the other three girls he’d helped identify had been rescued from the farm.  
“They are still working to identify any of Mr Rosenberg’s associates,” Davey added as Taylor hung his head, “but at this stage I think it may be pure luck to succeed there.”  
“Are they actively looking?” Isaac tried to take his mind off the other revelations.  
“They’ve entered DNA data into the system and are waiting for a match,” Davey shrugged, “that was the last I heard.”  
“Which means they won’t be caught unless they screw up somehow,” Taylor gave his brother a glance.  
“It’s not all hopeless,” Davey assured, “both Doctor Fenton and Rosenberg ‘screwed up’. It’s why you’re here today.”  
The corner of Taylor’s mouth curved in an almost-smile at that. He certainly wasn’t giving up hope. He just worried that one of them might decide to take over Eric’s empire in the meantime.  
Hopefully they all continued to see him as Fenton’s property.  
“I’ll leave you for now,” Davey announced, getting to her feet and collecting her briefcase, “I heard something about Bradford returning to Oklahoma next week?”  
“Yes, he’s coming to finalise some finance for us,” Natalie confirmed.  
“If nothing comes up before it, I’ll speak to you again then,” she gave Taylor an encouraging smile, “you know where to find me otherwise.”  
“Thank you,” Taylor smiled back.  
“Yeah, thanks,” Isaac quickly shifted to let her out the door.  
Natalie waited until she was out of sight before leaning forward and putting a hand on the bed.  
“Are you okay?” she asked worriedly.  
“It’s a bit early to be asking that,” Taylor mused before his face fell, “those chains were meant for me. That _girl_ was meant for me.”  
“What do you mean?” Isaac subtly shut the door behind him again with a frown.  
“Eric said I owed them money,” Taylor looked up, “they were going to use me the same way Fenton did, I’m sure of it. I would have had to get her pregnant.”  
“What makes you so sure?” Isaac shrugged.  
“Because I know Eric. Knew, Eric,” he corrected himself, “and there’s no other reason he’d want us together.”  
“Let’s not focus on what might have been and start focusing on what is,” Natalie suggested, giving the bed a pat, “this should be a happy day. This is another part of the ordeal over with.”  
Isaac chuckled and Taylor gave him a side eye.  
“What?” he demanded.  
“One of the ‘happiest’ days of your life and you have a bullet hole in your shoulder,” he couldn’t keep a straight face, “but don’t mind me. I’m gonna go check on Kate and see if she’s ready to go.”  
“What about Zac’s car?” Natalie asked, “ask if she wants us to pick up Jess on our way home and swing by the studio.”  
“I’ll text you,” Isaac promised before he disappeared through the door.  
Taylor smirked before hanging his head again once he was gone.  
Natalie stood from her chair and moved to his side in order to get closer. Once she was within range he reached out to pull her against him.  
She gently ran her fingers through his hair, knowing he just needed a moment.  
Taylor closed his eyes as he concentrated on her touch. He was having trouble reconciling how close he’d come to losing it all - _again_. Now that he had physical contact he didn’t want to let her go again, though he knew he’d eventually have to. But he was once more equating the movement of her fingers in his hair as a calming motion and the reminder of Fenton began to make his eyes well.  
He took a deep breath before opening his eyes again.  
“When I realised I was losing weight, I worked out that I could squeeze under the bed,” he began seemingly randomly, his voice croaking a little.  
“I started carving things into the floorboards down there, where Fenton wouldn’t find them. Just details like my name, how long I’d been there… just in case he sold the house and someone found it.”  
He sniffed a little, not willing to take his left hand from Natalie’s hip in order to rub his face.  
“I tried for a long time to think of something to write to you, but I could never come up with anything. I’d written things before on the back of a painting that got burnt, but this was something I definitely thought you’d see and I didn’t know what to say. Especially not knowing if it might take twenty years or so to find.”  
Natalie leant in a little to gently kiss the top of his head. She wanted to say something, to reassure him, but felt a little out of place doing so.  
“What could I possibly say if I was never going to see you again?” Taylor’s voice broke for good and he had to stop.  
Natalie wrapped her arms around his neck and he buried his face in her shoulder. He felt like he should cry but all he could let out were pitiful groans. He’d spent such a long time trying to make peace with the fact that he might never see her again that his relief when they were reunited physically hurt his heart. Eric’s stark reminder had brought all those fears of abandonment crashing back, impractical as they were now that it was all over.  
She held him as long as he needed her. When he eventually looked up as far as the floor again he still didn’t take his hand from her hip.  
“I’m sorry I still haven’t shared much,” he frowned, his voice with an obvious croak to it, “I just don’t know how to convey something like that to someone who hasn’t experienced it.”  
“It’s okay,” Natalie insisted, “that’s what group’s for.”  
“I know,” he assured, “but I don’t want you to think I’m hiding anything. I want you to be able to ask me anything you need to. I want to be strong enough.”  
He took another deep breath, knowing he was probably making her uncomfortable.  
“It really is like being a caged animal. All you can think about is freedom,” he attempted anyway, “and freedom itself becomes a taste on your tongue, or an object just out of reach. Every day you starve for it a little more until you inevitably wither away to just… nothingness.”  
“You didn’t wither,” Natalie insisted, leaning in to his head again.  
“Oh I did,” Taylor insisted, “I just didn’t go so far that I couldn’t come back. The day I was rescued I’d resigned myself to him. To _them_. And I already knew they both had plans to kill me. I just wanted a different kind of escape. If I couldn’t get out, I needed to give in. That meant giving up everything. It meant giving up me.”  
He instantly felt the tears springing to his eyes again.  
“I gave up on myself before you did,” he realised out loud.  
“We were _never_ going to give up on you,” Natalie finally broke away from his grip and turned to face him straight on, “not until there was conclusive evidence that a body was yours. I never believed for a second that you were gone of your own free will, and I hope you never thought that.”  
Taylor gulped slightly, not even wanting to admit that it had been a fleeting thought.  
“I was more worried about what stories Fenton might spin,” he said softly, “I begged him so many times to contact you, to let you know that I was alive. But he wouldn’t. Said there was some kind of rule against making contact. I thought if you doubted that I was alive that you might stop looking.”  
He ground his teeth gently as he thought back.  
“Then for some reason out of the blue he was suddenly going to let me write you a card for Christmas, but I screwed up. The first letter of every line spelled out his name. I don’t know if I was hoping he wouldn’t notice or what. But maybe it was just a test to see if he could trust me, and I failed.”  
“You had no way of knowing if he would ever send it,” Natalie pointed out.  
“I had to believe him,” Taylor frowned, “just like I had to convince myself he wasn’t a bad person. I didn’t want to admit that someone who might not be had such control over me.”  
He jumped when there was a sudden knock on the door and when Natalie turned to face the nurse he took the moment to quickly wipe his face.  
Natalie organised the prescription for him and the nurse soon retreated.  
“We just need to get your discharge papers from the desk and we can go,” she ran her fingers over the paperwork, “are you ready?”  
“I want to see Zac first,” he insisted.  
“We can do that,” she assured before stepping aside to reach for her handbag.  
Taylor waited until the last moment before standing from the bed. He almost winced out of habit but found he wasn’t in much pain at all. Natalie led the way through the door and paused to wait on the other side.  
Taylor stopped when he looked up at her. Her figure in the hall came across so normal and so expected, yet to him in that moment it was something entirely special. This woman who’d agreed to spend the rest of her life by his side, had more faith in him than he had himself. It felt like she always had. She knew him better than anyone, certainly more than he did himself. She knew every one of his flaws, almost every one of his nightmares, and at the end of the day she was still there waiting patiently for him.  
When she looked up to see what was taking so long he gulped a little. He’d almost lost this. He’d almost lost everything. _She_ was his everything. She’d _given him_ everything.  
He could never take such a thing for granted again as long as he lived.  
Taylor finally left the room and came to her side. She remained still when she saw that something was up. Taylor paused in front of her for a moment just to take her in, almost as if to confirm that she was real, before snaking his left hand around the back of her neck and pulling her in for a kiss.  
He felt like all he’d been waiting for these past eighteen months was confirmation that he hadn’t just imagined the connection he’d been missing. That he hadn’t over-romanticised what Natalie meant to him purely because he couldn’t be with her. But being here, being in this very moment, he knew. He knew everything he’d questioned before and never would again.  
This was love. This was family.  
 _They wouldn’t win._


	160. Fact vs Fiction

**First, these are the facts.**

A recent survey of schools in Florida (in all honesty I don’t remember which) showed that _one in three_ children – both boys and girls – were at risk of human trafficking/slavery. Another showed that _one in five_ men in Texas had paid potential trafficking victims for sex. If those numbers don’t scare you, you’re oblivious to one of the biggest problems facing the world today.

Most people will read facts and studies like these and think a few things; a) it only happens elsewhere (how many times do you think that about car accidents or drug overdoses until it happens to someone you know?) and b) there’s nothing I can do.

Here’s something you can do. Add this number to your phone:

**1-888-3737-888**

It is a nationwide hotline. You can remain completely anonymous. Every call will be looked into. All you have to do is _make that call_.

This is particularly helpful for people such as Hanson fans who are on the road a lot for shows. Many victims are taken to truck stops where they are sold to truckers. You may have heard the term ‘lot lizard’ thrown around. But take a moment to think of who that girl is, how old she might actually be, and how she ended up there. Realise that there are legitimate stories of girls that knock on truck doors while her pimp stands behind the rig with a gun pointed in their direction. **This is very real**.

_In the United States, the Department of Justice estimates up to 300,000 children are at risk annually of being trafficked. According to the Federal Bureau of Investigation, the average lifespan of a trafficked child is seven years._

Tulsa has been pinpointed as one of the central hubs for traffickers, due to its central location and easy highway access. This really is happening in Hansons’ backyard. But if that surprises you, take a look at your own. Chances are great it’s happening in yours too.

In an effort to keep this short, I highly recommend following blogs/Facebooks such as Truckers Against Trafficking, the A21 campaign or Stop The Traffik to get the real deal on these stories. You will see Oklahoma popping up often. In the meantime here is some warning signs to look out for in kids:

Chronic runaway/homeless youth.  
Excess amount of cash in their possession (may be reluctant to explain its source).  
Hotel keys and key cards.  
Lying about age/false ID.  
Inconsistencies when describing and recounting events.  
Unable or unwilling to give local address or information about parent(s)/guardian.  
Presence or fear of another person (often an older male or boyfriend who seems controlling).  
High number of reported sexual partners at a young age.  
Sexually explicit profiles on social networking sites.  
Injuries/signs of physical abuse (that they may be reluctant to explain).  
Inability or fear of social interaction.  
Demeanor exhibiting fear, anxiety, depression, submissiveness, tenseness, nervousness.  
Is not enrolled in school or repeated absence from school.  
Does not consider self a victim.  
Loyalty to positive feelings toward pimp/trafficker.  
May try to protect pimp/trafficker from authorities.  
Prepaid cell phone.

From: http://www.wearethorn.org/risk-warning-signs-for-child-sex-trafficking/?utm_source=facebook&utm_medium=organic&utm_campaign=blog#sthash.euJ6QEnx.dpuf

I originally began writing this story (as well as a few upcoming) as a way to vent my inability to be out on the front lines of this problem. I hated it when I started it. But if just one person reading this sees something out there and makes a call, and that call saves a life, it will have all been worth it.

 

~*~

 

**Here’s where the fiction fits in.**

Gary Heidnik was a Philadelphia man eventually found out to have kept African-American women chained by the ankle in his basement to use as sexual slaves. He used superglue in the padlocks so they couldn’t be picked.

Josef Fritzl was an Austrian man who built an entire basement dungeon under his own house in which he enslaved his own daughter, forcing her to raise a second family of their own. She spent decades without seeing the light of day, three of their seven children with the same fate. A lot of the health issues raised in _Lust_ \- such as eye degeneration – came from this story.

The references to starvation, eating disorders, and sense of control over the body came from the story of Natascha Kampusch. She was abducted as a ten year old in 1998 Vienna and escaped in 2006. It’s one of the longest _known_ cases of abduction. This story also contributed to the strong and hopeful mindset it takes to get through. After her abductor committed suicide Natascha gained ownership of the house she’d been held in purely so it would not be turned into a tourist attraction.

The way Taylor was found by the FBI and Eric’s line of “it’s okay to cry” came from Alicia Kozakiewicz who was abducted at 13 from Pittsburgh by a man she met online and taken to Virginia. There she was chained by the throat to his bedroom floor and forced to perform sexual acts for his online friends via web cam.

The way Taylor was found by Eric in the epilogue comes from the story of Sophie Hayes, an English girl who went on holiday with a friend to Italy only to be sold by him on the Italian streets. She escaped when forced to go to hospital and managed to call her parents. Her trafficker later found her again back in England, despite authorities being convinced he had not re-entered the country at all.

Branding is a common occurrence in trafficking victims.  
_“Very common,” said Sandra Johnson, the missionary founder of Ladder of Hope, an Archdale-based organization whose primary focus is to educate the public about human trafficking and provide resources for the victims. “Traffickers use tattoos, a bar code or another identifying symbol to establish ownership of a person. It is a form of control and to let other traffickers know who that person belongs to.”_  
_The Virginia Highway Patrol responded and later reported that a South Carolina woman had been befriended, then kidnapped, by a man and woman who were selling her at truck stops and rest areas.  
Once she had tried to run away and the man had driven nails into her feet. The report said she had one-inch puncture wounds on the bottoms of her feet._

Seeing his family on the news was an addition inspired by Amanda Berry – taken by Ariel Castro – having found out about her mother’s death on the news three years into her ten year abduction. His need to face his attacker came from Michelle Knight’s speech in court.

Fenton’s punishments of the closet and trunk were somewhat grafted from the way Colleen Stan was kept in a coffin-like space beneath her captor’s bed for her seven year imprisonment.

I recently lost a friend to brain cancer, which made me decide how he should go.

There are of course many other small things not worth mentioning here. Life is often scarier than fiction, and as Fenton said; “sometimes the bad guys win.”

 

There’s a reason lust is a sin.


End file.
